Snippets of Time
by ReikaLady
Summary: Once a series of prompts, now just random scenes in my head. Using Vigilance and Sacrifice for the most part, but if not, I'll note the chapter.
1. There were times

Waking up to an aching head, was bad enough. But then he made the mistake of trying to move and realized that "ache" was a gross understatement. His head felt like an overripe melon and threatened to wobble off. The wobbling off part didn't sound too bad, then he wouldn't be hurting so much. Then his gut cramped up and he wondered which would be worse: rolling over to puke, or trying to hold it in?

"Alistair?"

He whimpered. Her normally soft, sweet voice was anything but. He'd never heard her yell like that before, even when he and Morrigan had been constantly at each other's throats at the start of the Blight. Oh, he'd gotten her to scream more than once, but that was under far more pleasant circumstances.

"Maker's breath, what did you do to yourself?"

Alistair managed to groan out, "Not so loud."

He could feel the scowl, which was good, because he suspected if he opened his eyes it would be really, really bad. And not because of Marlana scowling down at him. Her voice sharpened into scalpel sharpness, "I'm barely whispering."

Then he heard the source of all his misery as he heard Oghren's chortle which made his queasiness become something much worse. The former templar just barely managed to roll over to vomit on the ground and not on himself. At least he thought it was the ground, he hoped it was the ground, but knew his hopes were in vain with a stifled snicker from Marlana as Oghren growled, "Nug-humper!"

Rather bravely, or so he thought, he cracked open one eye and whimpered again as brilliant light seared through. He quickly closed it again, because he realized he didn't get the ground. He felt a bit of satisfaction though, at least he'd gotten Oghren. Served the dwarf right for whatever the drunken ass gave him. He'd take one of Lana's poisons any day, they at least killed a person quickly. Or at least, didn't drag things out this way.

"Oghren, since I'm going to assume you're responsible for this mess, I'm leaving you to clean it."

As Oghren stomped off muttering further curses, and Alistair deeply wished the dwarf wasn't quite so loud, Lana dragged his sorry butt out of bed. He was too miserable to pay attention to where she pushed, pulled and prodded him to until he was unceremoniously dumped into a bath of ice cold water. Yelping, he tried to get out, but was too uncoordinated to do anything but flail about.

There were times Alistair almost wished he'd never left the Chantry. As his love grabbed his head to pour something vile down his throat to deal with the hangover, Alistair realized this was one of those times.


	2. Dark Shadows of the Soul

_Author's note: Weekly Alistair prompt "Everyone has a dark(er) side." Warning, there's likely to be some disturbing stuff in this. And of course, lots of my trademark angst! ;)  
_

He crouched before the small fire that he'd setup for his own, tonight he understood why Morrigan camped separately from everyone else. He couldn't bear to be around the others after his actions earlier that day, especially _her_. Alistair knew as a warrior, as a templar, there were parts of his mind, heart and soul that were best to keep from the light of day, but he'd never expected that when they did surface, they would do so in front of Marlana. Or so horribly.

As if thinking about her summoned her, he felt that familiar presence with its odd Taint. Ever since she drank Avernus's concoction the Taint in her had changed, but as far as he could tell it was just different, not that it made the Taint in her stronger. He didn't look up at her, not wanting to see the cool indifference she wore when she didn't want anyone to see what she was thinking. Or worse yet, what she really thought showing in those brilliant blue eyes. He could hear her deliberately walking towards him, making every effort not to sneak up on him so she wouldn't startle him.

But it wasn't possible for her to startle him like that, somehow he always knew when she was near. Normally he didn't mind, welcomed it in fact. Welcomed the desire she could stir in him with just a smile. But now, now he didn't welcome it, completely the opposite in fact as he felt that familiar hunger as he got the beloved scent on the gentle breeze. The way he was feeling, if he did give in, it wouldn't be gentle and the thought of hurting her made him ill.

"Let's talk, Alistair", it worse, far worse than he thought as he heard the worry in her voice. She still cared for him, despite showing her what kind of beast he was.

"Go away", he said roughly and as rudely as possible.

He shuddered at the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder, shuddered in need, and fear of that need. At the gentleness of her voice as she said, "No. I'm not leaving you."

"Oh Maker, Lana, please, just go. Go and don't come back." Alistair's voice cracked, she wasn't safe with him, not now, if she ever had been.

Then both hands were on his shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles through the thin linen of his shirt. Despite himself, he could feel his body starting to relax. Most of it relaxed, except for one part that ached. When she spoke again, there wasn't just concern, but anger, "You're out here alone with no arms or armor and you expect me to leave you defenseless? When you wouldn't let anyone treat your injuries from earlier? Alistair, talk to me dammit."

He looked down at his hands, at the knuckles that were split open and still bleeding occasionally. He didn't remember that happening, but imagined it came from when he punched the bastard in the mouth repeatedly. She moved closer to him, he could smell her better now, and fought the urge to pull her down and… He shook his head and froze, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer as she took up one of his hands to first smear healing salve over the still open cuts then wrapping it up with a bandage. As she began to repeat the same actions with the other hand, she spoke softly, "What's wrong, love? We've both killed people before, I don't understand why you're so upset. Talk to me, please."

Despite himself, his head jerked up so he could look at her, saw the worry mixed with fear for him. And over it all the fact she still loved him.

"What's not to understand? I beat a man to death with my bare hands. Which I assure you is very different from killing a bandit or one of Loghain's flunkies. Because that's in the heat of battle and they usually have weapons. And armor."

_Seeing the man raising the whip to his children, especially the little girl with the pale blonde hair and big blue eyes, had filled Alistair with rage. But he first he tried to talk to the bastard, but the man brushed him off with "They're my spawn, I can do what I want with 'em." Those words made something in Alistair snap, his vision hazed, then he soon saw literal red as he used his fists to turn a grown man into so much pulped meat. He didn't remember much after that, or even during the beating, except the dull thuds of flesh on flesh. When he came back to himself, they were back at camp with Lana crouched before him with worried eyes and Wynne trying to heal him, but he kept stopping her casting. That was when he fled to the outskirts of camp and debated if he should stay or not._

She sat down next to him with an exasperated huff. "Serves the disgusting creature right. I was ready to gut him, and after seeing what he did to his wife… Well, it was justice."

Reluctantly he gave in to his curiosity, "What do you mean?"

Her lips thinned and her eyes got that dangerous feral look, "You didn't see the bruises, welts and old scars on her. So I'd say he got what was coming to him. Thankfully her family is taking them in."

It still didn't help, he was a templar, even if he never took the formal vows, he was a knight and had taken those vows. His actions weren't that of a knight or a good man, which he thought he was. And as usual, he couldn't hide what he was feeling from those knowing blue eyes.

"Alistair", he wondered how she could fit so much into just his name, "We all have dark shadows in us all. Maker knows, you've seen enough of mine, and yet you still love me despite that. Why do you think I'm going to stop loving you for acting on your convictions?"

Hunching in on himself, he couldn't look at her as he spoke hoarsely, "You said I'm the brighter half of your soul. How can I be that with what I did?"

Lana's answer was a soft kiss, there was nothing gentle or sweet about it, particularly as she ended it with a light nip on his lower lip. He growled, "Run. Go. You don't know what you're doing."

"I won't run from you, Alistair. Ever."

She kissed him again, and this time he pulled her down and against him. His kiss back was savage, full of hunger and need. He lightly nipped his way down her throat and growled, "I want to hear you scream."

And she did, his name again and again intertwined with don't stop as they both learned that no matter how much he gave into his darker passions, he would never hurt her, which was his greatest fear.


	3. Lyrium is one hell of a drug

_Author's Note: This week's prompt is "Lyrium is one hell of a drug." I'm afraid I went for sappy this time._

He watched, while trying not to shudder at the sight, the raven haired mage drink the vial of glowing liquid before she returned to her frantic casting. His former brothers had often spoken of that liquid with a mixture of longing and hate. They spoke of the initial rush, the heightened awareness, the warmth rushing through their veins, the sheer feeling of power. The belief that it was all that allowed them to be templars, rather than being just warriors, no matter how skilled.

They didn't speak of what happened when that rush faded. The disconnection from themselves, from the world, the lethargy and confusion that set in when they didn't take their next dose fast enough. Alistair remembered when he was still an initiate in the monastery, a brother was brought in delirious. At first he thought the man had succumbed to a fever, he had the symptoms: not just the delirium, but waking nightmares, confused between the past and the present, sweating, shaking, high temperatures. But that hadn't been the case at all. One of the other brothers had grimly informed him and the other initiates that the poor man was going through lyrium withdrawal.

It was then they were told that lyrium fueled their holy powers as templars. What allowed them to do their Maker given duty in keeping the world safe from mages of all kinds, not just the maleficarum that so many of the priests worried about. All the other initiates had simply accepted it as the price of doing their holy work. He hadn't. He didn't think the Maker would want his warriors to ingest such an addictive and poisonous substance in his service and silently vowed to himself he'd find a way to avoid that drug.

The irony of what had been required to become a Grey Warden wasn't lost on him. But at least the poisonous substance was only once and not addictive. Though the Joining caused its own changes. Its own madness.

He was still furious at the chains the Chantry placed on the templars, not just the mages. Was he not proof that they didn't need lyrium to use their powers effectively?

Watching the white haired mage stop her casting to drink more of the stuff made his lips twist in disgust at the memories it evoked. Easier to concentrate on the memories and anger of the drug, rather than the fear of what would happen if their casting wasn't successful. Easier than thinking of the fear that Morrigan was using what little healing magics she had to help Wynne besides mixing up healing brews and salves. Or who needed more healing than what Wynne was capable of doing on her own.

Finally, the still form in the blood soaked bed stirred. The glorious blue eyes slowly blinked open and looked around in confusion before focusing on him. Saw the confusion quickly recede as those eyes shone in the way they only did for him as a smile blossomed on her face. He drank in the sight the way his former brothers did lyrium and he supposed in a way that she was his addiction. When he was near her, he felt more alive, more aware of the world, her presence gave him the strength to do what he needed. When she wasn't nearby, life did seem emptier, but at least he didn't go through the same terrible withdrawal symptoms.

Yes, lyrium was one hell of a drug, but it was nothing in comparison to the love he shared with Marlana.


	4. In a Perfect World

_"In a perfect world, we'd never have met", is actually a prompt I came up with. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised at how long this is. So you've been warned. Oh, and it's probably even sappier than my last prompt. Be warned twice. ;)_

_ Okay, so long prompt fill is really long._

They met for the first time at his father's funeral.

How they could have a funeral without a body, he couldn't understand. Probably never would. How did they even know his father was dead? Lost at sea, his ass. But those older and supposedly wiser decreed that because there was no sign of the ship after so long, all aboard were gone.

He fled to the kennel once all the rituals were over and he'd done his duty to the highborn mourners that came to see his father off to the Maker's side. By some weird quirk of fate, three of the mabari bitches had all gone into heat at the same time and birthed their pups the same evening. He'd helped that night, even though it was supposedly beneath his station for such things. But Cedric, the kennelmaster, was a friend and he wanted to help. Besides, it would be the first real useful thing he'd done in the years since he was brought to the palace. Even if father had told him that he needed to learn before he could do.

So heartsore and grieving, he sat with the very proud mabari hounds with their four week old pups who were now starting to become mobile and curious about the world around them. Let his brother and his brother's betrothed play politics, he wanted time to mourn with creatures that would understand his pain at the loss of the only person who seemed to really give a damn about him.

Absorbed in the antics of the puppy pile, he didn't realize someone else was nearby until a small horde of clumsy puppies took off yipping excitedly. There was a peal of delighted, silvery, feminine laughter that sounded nothing like the artificial tones of the females at court. Curious despite himself, he lifted his head, irritably pushing at the slightly shagged dark blonde locks of hair that flopped into his golden-brown eyes. Before him was a girl, who didn't seem all that much younger than his sixteen years, kneeling and laughing while getting swarmed by the puppies. At first he thought she was a servant who had snuck down to the kennels since she was dressed in plain tunic and trews. Then he saw the odd shade of silver-white hair tied back in a simple tail and realized that she was anything but a servant.

Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up at him with the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen, that only got bigger when she realized who he was. Nervously she scrambled to her feet, much to the annoyance of the mabari that surrounded her, and bowed deeply with her arms across her chest, "Oh! Your highness, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"Wait, please?" He asked as she started to back away.

Torn between his request and her desire to flee in mortification, she froze. That gave him enough time to talk to her as soothingly as he would a skittish filly, "You're Bryce Cousland's youngest? Ah, Marlana, right?"

She flushed, even more embarrassed at the fact that not only did he know who she was in general, but he knew her name, and she was dressed in such an unladylike manner. Something her mother and Nan had been emphatic about. She'd promised to not act the part of the hoyden while at Denerim and here she was acting the hoyden in front of one of the royals… Marlana nodded mutely, then belatedly remembered her manners, "Yes, your highness."

He sighed a little in annoyance at her constantly using his title, he knew that's how she was supposed to address him, but he hated being relegated to a title and not a real person. "Please, just call me Alistair." The young prince gestured for her to join him with a smile, "Have a seat, this way the little scamps won't go running around too far."

More than a little shyly she approached him and crouched down near him, ready to run if she had to. There was a refreshing lack of court subtlety in the bright smile as the two swarms of puppies unified back into a larger horde, their mothers sighing in relief as the pups continued to harass the humans and not them. "As you wish, your hi-, erm. Alistair." She ducked her head slightly, "My friends call me Lana."

He smiled back at her warmly, glad that she hadn't been at court enough to get that damnable polish. Surrounded by mabari, the two began to talk and for a short time Alistair was able to forget his sorrow, able to forget that he was the Bastard Prince. They'd gone from discussing the mabari to horses then to hunting. When they started to commiserate about boring lessons they were set by their tutors an older woman's voice rang out, "Marlana Cousland, get your rear end out here now, girl. Maker help you if I have to find you."

Lana blanched, "Oh no, I was down here longer than I meant to. Nan is going to give me a piece of her mind."

"Nan?"

"The poor soul who got to be my governess."

He laughing, he got to his feet and offered her his hand, "Let's see if I can talk your Nan around the way I can talk some of my poor tutors around."

Shy again, she hesitantly accepted the hand up before heading out to meet her exasperated Nan. The older woman sighed at the sight of her charge, "Well, at least you changed. And what are you doing running around with strange boys without a chaperone?"

Lana huffed, "I had three full grown mabari and their puppies around me, they're better chaperones than some of the idiot girls you set on me."

Nan's lips compressed angrily and Alistair tried to intervene, "Really, good woman, I swear that all we did was talk."

She took a good look at the prince and blanched, before dropping into a deep curtsey, "Highness, I'm dreadfully sorry if my lady was disturbing you."

He genially waved away Nan's apologies, "Don't worry about it. She was a bright spot in an otherwise dark day."

A few more apologies were uttered before the servant hustled her charge off, scolding the girl for annoying him. Somewhat bemusedly he stared off in the direction the two females had gone. He could usually talk people around better than that, but apparently Nan had learned to build defenses against charming adolescents from Lana.

Dinner that night was an unexpectedly private affair consisting of Anora, Cailan, Eamon, Teagan and himself. Thankfully Loghain was off somewhere else, Alistair wasn't sure if he could have tolerated the dour general's presence that night. While the other four quietly conversed amongst themselves about the day's events and what deals were made or destroyed, Alistair was lost in his own thoughts. He was amused and irritated at himself for being so captivated by the light conversation he had with Lana until he realized why it had made such an impact. She'd treated him just as Alistair the young man, not his highness Alistair Theirin. Or even worse as the Bastard Prince. And she'd laughed at his jokes. Also, in the spirit of being perfectly honest with himself, she was a pretty girl.

"So brother, what did you do that put that smile on your face?" Cailan asked with curiosity, he flushed slightly and tried not to squirm under the regard of the four adults.

"Um, well. I met Marlana Cousland in the kennels."

Not surprisingly the three men thought it was amusing, while Anora's pretty face twisted up in disgust. Cailan's expression brightened, "Really? She seems like a delightful young lady, if a bit feisty."

Alistair thought over his conversation with the silver-haired girl, and thought feisty was a good description if something got her worked up enough. He asked his brother dryly, "Do I want to know?"

The older Theirin's expression turned vague, "Oh, it was just Bann Ceorlic being himself."

Teagan snorted, "Oh, just be honest with the lad, Cailan. Marlana called him out for calling Alistair the Bastard Prince."

Alistair blinked and felt himself flush again, "Really, huh."

Eamon chuckled, "Indeed, that's when Bryce and Eleanor told her to make herself scarce. Told Fergus the same when he wouldn't stop laughing. No wonder Howe calls her Bryce's little spitfire, that girl is going to be one to watch out for once she's grown."

Suddenly the girl's flustered reaction made a lot more sense. And the cynical part of him wondered what she wanted from him, since with the exception of the guards and some of the servants no one was generally nice to him without wanting something from him.

They met for the second time at his brother's wedding a month later.

During that month they'd exchanged cautious letters, initially polite thank you notes. His for her condolences, hers for his hospitality. But she'd included a post script on her letter asking about the mabari puppies and if one had imprinted on him. Since he was more inclined towards being a warrior than a scholar, he winced every time he read his own chicken scratch as he wrote to her. Particularly after seeing her elegant script, yet there was no sign of any of the subtle condemnation that many nobles were so good at. And it felt like there was the beginning of a friendship.

He was quite pleased to see her with her family at the wedding ceremony. Nor was he surprised to see her in an elegantly simple dress in Highever colors with her hair done up in braids adorned with flowers. Quite unlike the rest of her family who had dressed in reds and golds in honor of the Theirin line. When their gazes met, she gave him a brief, but dazzling smile. And Alistair cautiously hoped that meant she was as pleased to see him.

It was at the reception afterwards that it was confirmed she was pleased to see Alistair, not the prince. Once she pried herself away from the gaggle of teen girls, she made her way over to him. She curtsied to him deeply as his station warranted, but she looked up with an impish smile making those eyes dance as she quietly said, "Hello, Alistair."

He grinned as he asked her to dance, fortunately it was a slow one so he wouldn't mangle her feet with his two left feet. She smiled up at him and as they quietly chatted, she made sure to tell him when to step and where. For the first time he found himself actually enjoying a dance and relaxed instead of being wound up tight as a spring. When the dance ended, he found himself reluctant to let her go, but she grimaced slightly, "Unfortunately duty calls, my parents would be ticked if I monopolized all of your time."

She slanted a conspiratorial gaze up at him, "At least I won't have to dance with that stuffy Bann Ceorlic from now on."

His laughter caused heads to turn as she curtsied to him again before getting claimed by another guest. The prince mentally braced himself for the next obligatory dance, dreading how awful it would be after the young noblewoman. But he noticed that for each matron he had to dance with, he would get one or two dances with girls his own age. While he didn't let on, he noticed every one of them was one of the girls that Lana had been chatting with and wondered what exactly was going on.

When they could without making anything seem out of place, he danced with Lana as often as possible.

Gwendolyn Faolin, a lovely young woman with porcelain skin, glossy ebony curls and pale jade green eyes, was the one who explained what exactly Lana was up to, "Oh, our Lana is a crusader. If she thinks someone needs help, she'll do what she can to fix it."

So it was out of pity then, he thought sadly, but all he said was "Oh. I see."

Those pale eyes were too knowing, then a small smile curved her lips, "There's one thing you should be aware, your Highness."

"And that is?"

"Well, maybe a couple of things. My heart-sister is normally oblivious of males, especially when there are mabari around. She talked more about meeting you than she did of the piles of mabari puppies."

He tried not to blush, but he couldn't stop the smile that started to brighten his face.

As the dance ended, Gwen gave him an odd look, "The other thing you should know, Lana is a rotten correspondent. I'm her best friend and I'm lucky if I get a couple of hastily scrawled lines inviting me somewhere."

Thoughtful, Alistair went back to mingling to take a break from the dancing, having more than fulfilled his social obligations. He was surprised when he found Lana sitting in a corner with her bare feet propped up on an empty chair. It wasn't terribly dignified, but at the same time proper. She grinned, "Don't mind me, I could only take those shoes for just so long. I consider myself lucky that I didn't break an ankle."

He chuckled, "I don't know how women do it, to be honest."

"I don't either. Neither mother nor Gwen has ever been able to explain why I should torture my feet like that. Give me a solid pair of boots any day."

Alistair smiled and sat down on a nearby. "I never did get a chance to answer your question about getting a mabari of my own."

She looked up at him curiously.

He grinned, "Want to get out of here and meet Nora?"

She blinked at him, "Er, I did meet the new queen briefly a couple of times. I don't think she approves of me."

"No, no. Not Anora. Nora, my mabari."

Lana blinked at him, "You didn't."

He just grinned at her and she laughed in return. They snuck down to the kennels where he proudly introduced her to Nora. The puppy for her part took a long moment to sniff over the young woman, when she was done, Nora sat back, sneezed then grinned her approval. Then another puppy came over with great deliberation and purpose to Lana, sat down on her foot and barked. It sounded suspiciously like "Mine".

Alistair beamed, "Ha! I was right. This little fellow was the last one of that horde who hadn't imprinted yet. I bet Cailan that he'd imprint on you. He was convinced he could talk Teagan into trying."

"Not that I'm not flattered, but I'm not quite sure how to explain to my parents how I ended up with one of the royal mabari."

"Call it a birthday gift."

She slanted a look up at him, "What? You have to have a birthday at sometime. So it's a little late, or early… All a matter of point of view."

"Uh huh." But she couldn't help melting a bit over the adorable puppy. She'd figure something out, she always did.

He squatted down to ruffle Nora's ears, "So what are you going to call him."

"Oogie."

An eyebrow quirked up in disbelief.

"What? I had a stuffed mabari when I was a little girl named Oogie. We had some of the best adventures. I think I'll probably have even better ones with this guy." Oogie yipped his approval of name and the thought of adventures.

They didn't meet again until months after the wedding when the next Landsmeet arrived, partly because her parents weren't sure who was a worse influence on the other. Their daughter on the prince, or the prince on their daughter, especially after she returned to the reception with a dribbling puppy in tow.

But they were still able to write to each other and in time they each found a confidant in each other. While she didn't entirely understand what his life had been like before Maric brought him to Denerim as his acknowledged second son, she had seen first hand the comments made about Alistair. Some of her friendships with the daughters of other nobles over her defense of the prince, but she didn't care. If anything, she was grateful to learn what they were like early on. Gwen found the whole situation amusing and teased Lana about her "friendship" with Alistair.

Both prince and young noblewoman kept insisting they were simply good friends.

Yet as time went on, there were more invitations for Lana, with or without her family, to events at the palace. And invitations for Alistair to attend events at Highever. That he was chosen to be her formal escort when she turned sixteen and her parents insisted on having a ball to commemorate the event. As much as Fergus wanted to tease his sister, he didn't want a repeat of when she dyed his hair bright purple with gold flakes. Particularly since his new wife, Oriana, was likely to go along with Lana on the mad attempt.

At twenty Alistair was already making a name for himself as a skilled warrior, not to mention showing a good mind for strategy and tactics. In fact Loghain had reluctantly begun to train the younger man up as a second in command, impressed despite himself. The Bastard Prince had proven to have more of Maric in him than Cailan, who still fancied legends and "glorious battles", while Alistair displayed remarkably good sense.

No matter what Loghain did, he couldn't break Alistair of his light hearted sense of humor and glib tongue. But it was that good nature combined with a willingness to work hard that won the hearts of his men.

Not to mention the heart of the young woman from Highever who was too stubborn to admit to anyone, even her best friend Gwen, that she saw Alistair as anything but a good friend.

When Lana turned eighteen, Alistair formally invited her to spend the week at the palace in Denerim. Wondering what he was up to, she agreed to the visit with Gwen to act as her chaperone, since she was now a properly married woman.

The prince was waiting to greet the small entourage at the gates with a single red rose, freshly picked from the palace gardens, which he gifted to Marlana with an unspoken question in his eyes. Before she accepted the token of his affection, she nodded solemnly, her unspoken answer clear in her luminous eyes.

That night during the fete that was being thrown in her honor, Alistair led Marlana outside. Under the brilliant full moon overhead, he formally asked the question that she had silently said yes to when she accepted the rose. "Yes", was the only word she could get out, but that was all that needed to be said.

After sliding the ring upon her left ring finger, he bent down to kiss Lana, sure his heart would beat itself to pieces in his nervousness, since he wanted this to be right.

_Alistair woke up in an unfamiliar bed, his arm wrapped around a female form that was familiar, yet not. For a moment he thought everything had been a dream, and his heart ached at the loss of the love and friendship he had. That he had sunk so low as to start resorting to actually hiring a lady of the night._

_Then she stirred, and while she wasn't soft the way she had been in the dream, this was something better. Relieved that it was Marlana in his arms, he murmured softly "_Real"_ not realizing that he said it out loud as he kissed her neck since the angle was all wrong for her lips._

_He understood then that even in a perfect world they may still have met. But in a way, this was better than perfect. That they could find love in the face of so much darkness just made it that much sweeter. Who needed perfect?_


	5. For Duty and Honor

Author's Note: This prompt is "For Duty and Honor" my muse being the whimsical creature that it is demanded this be fluff.

_Alistair,_

_ There were some complications in Highever which will cause a delay in my return to Ostagar. Fortunately, I have the recruit I was hoping for, even if the circumstances were far less than ideal. I trust all is well with you, the other Wardens as well as the other recruits. I'll send word when we're closer to Ostagar._

_ Duncan_

"Complications, huh? That's Duncan-speak for shitstorm," commented the wiry man of average height and features. "That was the term he used when he conscripted you. There were some minor complications with the Chantry."

Alistair sighed and rubbed his forehead as he set the letter down, "Minor." He shook his head, "I didn't think even Duncan would call a furious Grand Cleric as 'minor', Kendrick."

Kendrick snickered, "Yeah, well, that's Duncan for you. The master of the understatement. So how are the recruits doing?"

The only answer was a groan.

Kendrick looked at the younger man curiously.

Alistair scrubbed his face, "What is there to say? Jory seems to know what he's doing with a sword, but its all glory this or honor that. He doesn't seem to get what the duties of being a Grey Warden are." He hesitated, "Truthfully, I don't think he really has the guts for our line of work."

A thoughtful nod, "And Daveth?"

"For a street rat, he's got a better sense of duty than the knight. I just wish I could get through to him to stop going after every female that walks into his line of sight. He keeps up his antics, he's going to tarnish the reputation that you all have worked hard to restore."

The older Warden eyed Alistair as the former Chantry boy flushed out of embarrassment of the subject matter and annoyance, "You turn such a fetching shade of red when you're even hinting at sex."

If anything Alistair turned even brighter, "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. You try dealing with that, that, argh. I don't know what to call him. He's like a tomcat that thinks all the females are in heat or something."

Kendrick fell over laughing.

Over a week passed before they heard again from Duncan. During that time Alistair had the joy of trying to get through to Jory that Wardens weren't the heroes he thought they were without giving away any secrets. And he almost gave up in despair at trying to get Daveth to behave in a civilized manner. All the rogue did was sneer and give some variation of "Stop being a Chantry Sister."

Daveth finally caused Alistair to lose it on him in the middle of camp after the Warden tried addressing the recruit about the latest complaints. The pickpocket was sufficiently impressed by Alistair's tirade that he actually behaved himself.

When the expected word from Duncan came, Alistair had to read the note multiple times to make sure he was reading it correctly, before he deliberately put down the cheese he was eating to clutch his head in his hands. Never seeing the young man leave any type of cheese uneaten, Kendrick was about to go find a healer when Alistair shoved the letter to him.

After reading it, Kendrick frowned at the young warrior, "I don't see what the problem is."

"He recruited a woman. With the way things have gone, we're going to get some sort of fluff brained bit of a girl who'll shriek every time she breaks a nail."

"Come now, she can't be that bad."

"Duncan recruited Jory didn't he?"

"Ah, well, you do have me there lad. Wonder if she's a looker."

"Oh Maker. Kendrick, you're as bad as Daveth."

Kendrick chortled evilly, "Oh, I'm worse. I'm going to send you to go let the king know when to expect Duncan."

"Argh! You're a bastard, you know that, right?"

"Hey, after Duncan, you're King Cailan's favorite Warden for some reason."

Alistair wasn't sure about favorite, but he knew why Cailan tolerated him and wasn't about to enlighten the other Warden. Before doing the dubious honor of notifying his half-brother of Duncan's arrival, Alistair decided to fortify himself with more cheese.

Kendrick still had a contemplative expression and Alistair looked at him curiously, causing the other man to shrug, "Marlana is a pretty name, but doesn't sound Ferelden. Since Highever is a port city, I wonder if she comes from somewhere else and that's the complication?"

It was Alistair's turn to shrug, "I don't know, but with our luck, she'll be death on two legs but not a thought between her ears. Anyway, I best let the King know when to expect Duncan."

"Yeah, considering how he's been bugging me for news, I'm sure he'll be giving Duncan a royal greeting when he arrives with that 'fluff brained girl'."

Finishing off his cheese, Alistair went off to fulfill his duty of notifying the king of the news. He wondered at what the king knew that he didn't when Cailan got an unusually thoughtful look on his face at the combination of the name of the new recruit and where Duncan had gotten her. And hoped she wouldn't be too much trouble.


	6. Selfish Guilt

_Author's Note: This was a private prompt request of a conversation between Alistair and a Cousland around Ostagar. Alistair: "How can someone so selfish make me feel so guilty?" Cousland: " It's a gift."_

"Tell me something if you would, Lana. How is it that such a selfish person can make me feel so guilty?" Alistair asked somewhat lightheartedly to the silver-maned woman that was perched on the boulder he was leaning against. She looked down at him with that somber sapphire gaze he kept trying to find ways to brighten with laughter, though her pale brows arched up in curiosity.

"I imagine it's a gift. Though who is this selfish person that's making you feel guilty?"

"Ser Jory."

He wasn't surprised when he saw her eyes roll in disgust at the mention of the knight. Not that he blamed her, the man's prattling about glory was incredibly grating, but there was something about the man that set Lana's teeth on edge. The former templar wasn't good at reading women, and even he could tell she barely tolerated the man's presence. He hadn't quite caught some of the conversation the two had about Highever, but he had seen her stomp away from the knight muttering about "selfish males".

"So what has the _good_ Ser Jory done to make you feel guilty?"

"Making him stay out here fighting darkspawn."

She stared at Alistair in disbelief since they were in the middle of the Korcari Wilds doing that very thing as part of the joining ritual for herself and the other two recruits. One of whom was the detestable Jory. "Alistair, the last time I checked we were recruited to be Grey Wardens. And unless things have changed, I'm pretty sure the primary mandate for Wardens was to kill all darkspawn."

He laughed, trying to ignore the sounds of a man still getting violently ill behind them. "Yes, well. That was sarcasm you know."

"Uh huh." She slanted a look over her shoulder, wrinkled her nose and shook her head, "Maker, the idiot is going to hurt himself if he keeps that up."

No longer laughing, Alistair shook his head, "Darkspawn are pretty horrific for the first time. Are you sure you haven't fought them before?"

"Believe me, I'd have remembered. They're awful, but not that disgusting." She shrugged a little, "Its worse killing men."

Alistair paused, and wondered if the _complication _that Duncan mentioned was that he had conscripted a murderer. Those blue eyes suddenly chilled at whatever she saw on his expression and she jumped down neatly from the boulder, "If you must know, I had to fight my way out of my home from invaders. That's where Duncan saved my life."

Watching her stalk over to Jory and pull something out of one of the many pouches she wore on her belt to hand to the nauseous man, Alistair scrubbed at his face and really hoped Lana was going to give the man something for his stomach and not poison. He sighed a little ruefully, he'd only known her for one day and was already putting his foot into it with her.

He regarded the small pyre of darkspawn corpses that Alistair and Lana had setup while the other two recruits were still trying to get over their horror of their first encounter with darkspawn. The warrior had been somewhat surprised at how completely unfazed the young woman had been in their first fight with the Tainted monsters, and afterwards had been the first to suggest burning the bodies to reduce the amount of Taint the land would be exposed to. How she had squatted down to study the things with the air of a hunter studying new prey.

Duncan still wasn't forthcoming about where in Highever Marlana came from, but apparently Jory had recognized her and seemed surprised to see her as a Warden recruit. Which led to that ill fated conversation and as Alistair watched Marlana very brusquely tend to the ill fighter, he was relieved to see that Jory would survive her ministrations to see his Joining.

Feeling Alistair's gaze, she looked up at him shrugged slightly. With a wry grin she mouthed "Guilty."

He grinned back and prayed to the Maker that she would survive her Joining.


	7. Painful Dreams

_Author's note: This week's prompt "What if Alistair met Duncan in the Fade instead of the Warden?" This is the alternate version of the Fade in my ongoing fic. :)_

"D-Duncan? You're _alive_?" Alistair could scarcely believe his eyes. Before him stood the man who was more than just his mentor and rescuer from mindless servitude. This was the person who had acted more as a father to him than anyone else. One of the few who cared about _Alistair_, and not what he represented.

That familiar brilliant smile broke through the dark beard, "Of course I'm alive, Alistair. Why wouldn't I be?"

Alistair felt faint, "At Ostagar..." He trailed off, not sure what to say.

Duncan sobered, "Poor Cailan. We'd all warned him. But why do you think I died there? Yes, I was badly wounded, but one of the healers that came with the Circle was able to take care of my injuries. But enough of such sadness. Tell me, what do you think of Weisshaupt?"

There wasn't something right here, but his head felt too…foggy to think clearly. "It's nice enough I suppose. But why are we here and not at Ferelden dealing with the Blight?"

"Are you feeling all right, Alistair? Don't you remember? You're the big hero by killing the Archdemon and leading the way to setting the underground lairs ablaze. The darkspawn are no more."

Alistair frowned, he didn't remember any of that. And how could he be the hero? He was just lucky he could be a Grey Warden without screwing that up like he did everything else. And to be honest, he felt cheated. If he really did all those things, he wanted to remember it dammit.

"Well you have just recovered from your injuries. Why don't you take some time? Explore the castle. I'm sure with time your memories will recover."

Time passed, but it still seemed blurry to Alistair. And the other Wardens seemed…disconnected from everything. They'd exchange pleasantries, but that's it. None of them would talk to him. If he'd done everything Duncan had claimed, he would've thought there'd be questions, lots of them. He supposedly did it, and he had questions. And Marlana…where was she? Alistair thought they'd become friends enough that she'd seek him out to at least say goodbye before she left for…wherever.

Not to mention the constant feel of magic in the background. A templar couldn't sense magic the way a mage could, but he could still pick up the presence. This was worse than being at the Circle with the nearly overwhelming taste of magic.

Troubled, he sought out Duncan who was the only one who seemed to show any signs of life. The older man looked up from the book he was reading, "Something bothering you, Alistair?"

He started to pace, "A few things. First, where's Marlana? I haven't seen her since I've gotten here."

Duncan looked at him questioningly, "Marlana? I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about."

"You know, the young woman from Highever, odd silver hair, big blue eyes, thinks way too much?" His concern was changing into something else at Duncan's headshake, "You know, the only recruit who survived the Joining at Ostagar?"

"Oh!" Duncan's puzzlement changed to recognition, then sorrow, "I'm afraid your battle with the Archdemon took more out of you than we thought. She didn't survive the Joining. None of them did, sadly."

No, that he knew wasn't right. He knew Lana had survived, survived the Tower of Ishal, Flemeth, the mad flight from Lothering to…

He remembered. Everything. Including the demon they encountered in the Tower.

Suddenly he was no longer in his simple shirt and pants, but the heavy chainmail that Lana had dug up for him, the sword Oathkeeper in hand, and his shield in the other. "Who are you? Really? And where is this place? I know you aren't Duncan and this isn't Weisshaupt."

The thing with Duncan's face scowled at him, "Foolish boy. I've given you happiness! And you throw it in my face?"

Happiness? It thought he was happy here? Frustrated, bored and a little scared was more like it. But now? Now he was just angry that something had been screwing with his head. And furious that it would use Duncan in such a way.

"I don't think you know what happiness really is. Demon."

The demon howled, and lunged for him. He was ready though, smashing it back with his shield, then caught it in the middle with his sword. He wouldn't let himself think as he brought the sword around in a powerful backhanded swing, sending the head of the imposter bouncing away. He knelt before the body, braced by sword and shield and his head bowed.

He stiffened at the touch on his shoulder. Reluctantly, Alistair looked up to see pain and tear filled sapphire eyes set in a face ravaged by grief. Marlana didn't say anything as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders offering silent comfort. He shifted to return the hug, glad for at least one lie and he wasn't truly alone.


	8. Not for all the cheese

_Author's Note: This was actually for two prompts. "First Meeting" and "Not for all of the cheese in Ferelden." For those who read Vigilance and Sacrifice, this was just before the last part of Chapter 9._

It was at the first of one of their few visits at the Pearl that Alistair and Marlana had the "wonderful" opportunity to meet one of Zev's great friends: Isabela. He'd sworn up and down that they'd like the female ship's captain. Very bold and daring, had traveled to all ports of Thedas, the tales she could tell and even better, she was a skilled duelist who was known to teach her tricks to those piqued her interest. At Lana's dubious expression, the assassin grinned, "Yes, yes, I know that the Pearl is a whorehouse, but you said the good Sergeant Kylon was looking to have you oust some annoying mercenaries, no?"

Lana looked over at Alistair who shrugged, "Can't hurt I supposed, but this is someone that Zev calls a friend…"

She smiled faintly, "Are you implying something? Since he calls both of us friend."

"Wellll, you are kind of troublesome…" He grinned and ducked her mock slap.

"If I'm trouble, what are you?"

"In up to my neck and rapidly sinking. And not regretting a moment."

Lana's eyes narrowed as he grinned at her, daring her to say something. Instead she laughed ruefully, "All right, Ser Sinking, let's go see who in the rest of the troublemakers wants to go on our little expedition there."

It wasn't terribly surprising that the rest wanted to go, though she didn't really want to know why Wynne, Morrigan and Sten wanted to go to the whorehouse, and didn't dare ask. The really disturbing part was that Shale expressed curiosity about seeing a "den of iniquity". She very firmly decided she didn't want to know where the golem had picked up that phrase, especially the way Shale grinned as she said it.

Sangra, the "proprietress" of the Pearl, was quite pleased to see Marlana when the Warden told her that she was there to deal with the troublesome mercs that didn't seem to want to leave. When Sangra got a good look at those accompanying Lana, she seemed momentarily at a loss of words, particularly with the Qunari and golem. Fortunately, it was easy enough to send the ruffians packing with a little gentle persuasion on Marlana's part, especially with Alistair looming over her shoulder.

Pleased that there wasn't any violence to disturb the guests and the workers, Sangra gave them a healthy discount on their drinks for their visit. As they sat chatting idly, and Lana was most definitely not going to ask where Morrigan and Sten had disappeared to, that Zev brought over the captain to their table. A tall, voluptuous woman with bronzed skin, dark golden hair and hazel eyes dressed in tightly laced, white leathers that left nothing to the imagination, Isabela was most definitely trouble. And not what Alistair would consider the good kind like he did with Lana.

Sapphire eyes regarded the woman somewhat warily, but their owner gave a polite smile and genially invited the duelist to join them. Isabela proved to have a deep throaty purr of a voice as she explained how she knew Zevran. She regarded the slight woman thoughtfully, and the dual blades at Lana's back even more so, "Zev tells me that you might make a good student, Marlana."

Lana nodded cautiously, "He said there might be a few things that I might find interesting."

The smile she got in return was disturbing. "Indeed, but I would need to test you first. And there is the matter of payment of course."

"What manner of test and payment?"

"Oh, it can be the same activity. See if you can beat me in a game of cards, or…" She trailed off musingly.

Lana became even more wary, "Or what?"

Isabela's smile turned lascivious as she eyed Marlana up and down in a way that made some of Zevran's previous looks seem positively tame. Lana could feel herself turning red, she'd never had anyone make her feel that dirty, and from the corner of her eye she could see Alistair flushing in embarrassment. But she could also see the way he clenched his jaw, he was…jealous?

The duelist laughed, "Oh my dear girl, have you never had anyone admire you before? Particularly that handsome lad that doesn't leave your side?"

Refusing to look at anyone as she tried, and horribly failed, at controlling her blushes, Lana mutely shook her head.

"In that case my dear, I can teach you so much more than just the use of your blades. And no need to be jealous, Alistair. You'd be more than welcome to join in."

Both of them turned even brighter, if that was possible, and Isabela laughed merrily, "Oh Zevran, you find the best surprises. Such a pair of lovely, young virgins." Clearly amused at their expense she asked, "What will it be, sweet Marlana?"

Faintly, "Thank you, captain, but I think I'll pass. If you'll excuse me, I'm going out for air."

As Lana walked off without looking like she was running, she didn't hear what Isabela asked Alistair, but she did hear his response very clearly as he scrambled to join her, "No. Absolutely not. Not even for all of the cheese in Ferelden."


	9. Splitting Hairs

_Author's Note: This prompt was "Splitting Hairs", I'm afraid my brain went for the stupidly silly in this._

_Snip. Snip._

"Hey! Be careful there!" Alistair protested, causing Lana to pause and look at him curiously, scissors poised half open. Exasperation was clear both in sapphire eyes and in the young woman's stance where she stood behind the warrior seated on a small boulder. There wasn't even any hair on his bare shoulders where he sat clad only in his pants and boots.

"Alistair, all I did was just take a few snips."

"Ye-es, and you still need to be careful." He kept his face straight and his voice as serious as possible, but his warm brown eyes told a different story as they danced with amusement. And he was very careful to make sure she couldn't see his face.

She stared hard at the back of his head, "You were the one complaining about your hair getting shaggy. So if you don't want me to do this, why take me up on the offer to trim it?"

"It is getting shaggy. And the last time I tried to do it myself, weeelll, let's just say it wasn't pretty."

Lana crossed her arms, being mindful of the scissors, "You're having me on, aren't you?"

"Would I do that?"

She let silence speak for her.

He turned around and gave her his most charming smile, "Besides, you're the only one I trust to have something sharp around my head."

Lana made an exasperated sound, "Wynne and Leliana aren't that bad. Leliana is probably the better choice with hair than I am anyway since she's had some practice."

It was Alistair's turn to make a disgusted sound, "Yes, the hair of pampered Orlesian noblewomen. Elderly ones too."

"Oh, it wasn't just elderly ones from what I understand", came the dry response.

"So? They're still female and I'm most assuredly _not_."

She grinned at his indignant tone, "No, you're definitely very…male." And felt her cheeks start to flush slightly despite herself. Oddly enough, while Alistair may have been the sheltered Chantry boy, he'd adapted to the intimate turn their relationship had taken far better than she had. Seeing his smirk, she hastily asked, "Why not ask Zevr? I'm sure he'd probably be more helpful."

He growled, "I'm not having Zev around me without my full armor."

"Alistair…" She sighed, "Look, I know you don't entirely trust him, but really, full armor?"

"Oh, I'm not worried him stabbing me. It's well…" It was his turn to turn red as he made a complicated twisting gesture with his hands from embarrassment. "He said since I was so nervous about being around Isabela, that he offered to, erm… Be there. If I needed any advice."

She stared at him for a moment, and shook her head with amusement, though the pink in her cheeks deepened a bit, "Zev knows better. He was just teasing you."

"Uh huh, somehow I don't think you threatening to kill him would impress him."

Lana dimpled as an evil grin blossomed and her eyes twinkled with mischief, "Oh no, something much worse."

"You aren't really the type to torture people, my love. And somehow I think Zev would enjoy it if you did."

"Well, trust me it's not the type he would enjoy. I threatened him that I'd bribe Leliana into taking him with her the next time she went shoe shopping."

Alistair looked at her blankly.

"Trust me, you haven't gone shopping with her. Until you do, you won't understand the experience."

"I'll take your word for it", he said faintly.

She grinned as she brandished the scissors, "Since you so neatly sidetracked us. Did you want me to finish this up? Or do you want to let it grow out? Personally, I think you might look cute with slightly longer hair."

"Cute", he growled and turned around. "I'd say do your worst, but I'd hate to see how bad that would be. So do your best, m'dear."

Still grinning she resumed her careful snipping, and very casually said, "And there's been a request from Wynne and Morrigan."

"…I'm not so sure I want to hear this. But go on."

"They're asking that you stop raiding our elfroot supplies."

He was quiet and very carefully did not squirm.

"Do I want to know?"

Alistair grumbled a bit, "Okay, fine. I use an elfroot wash with my hair sometimes. I don't use that much."

"Uh huh."

"I don't suppose you have anything better in mind?"

"Actually, I might."

"You know, that was rhetorical, right?"

Her lips turned up into another grin, this one slightly wicked, "I know, but I do have an alternative. You just need to make sure you don't get any in your eyes or mouth, and don't have any open cuts in your hands."

Alistair's silence was telling before he said, "Before I agree, you're going to tell me what's in it."

"It's not that bad."

"Riiiight."

"It's a mixture of lifestone and deathroot. More lifestone than deathroot. With equal parts water to dilute it."

"And you use that on your hair?" His horrified reaction was more amusing than offensive to her.

"Yes, and since I've used it at least once since we've gotten involved, you aren't in any danger of getting poisoned as long as your careful. And, you're all done", she said as she put the scissors to the side and began to brush off the light coating of snipped hair off his shoulders.

He twisted around to pull her down into his lap and purred, "Then let me make it up to you."

She batted her eyes at him, "And what did you have in mind?"

While Alistair's response wasn't verbal, he more than answered that question.


	10. Love and Sacrifice

_Author's Note: Yes, I took some liberties with the DR and possibly how Morrigan's relationship with Lana has gone. But it all fit in my head. This particular prompt is "There is no love without sacrifice."_

"_When the time comes, mine will be the hand to slay it."_

_ "Lass, you're young yet, there is no need for you to sacrifice yourself"_

_ Fast on the heels of Riordan's response to Marlana's declaration was his own, "What? How can you possibly say that, Lana?"_

_ Intense sapphire eyes regarded the two men, "In the days to come, Ferelden will need its king. We didn't do what we did to plunge the country back into war, especially since we don't know if Anora is still alive. And it will need a senior Warden to help with the aftermath recovering from the Blight."_

That scene played over and over in his head as he paced back and forth in the room that he'd been given. He wasn't surprised that this time Eamon had separated him from Lana after the shouting match they had back in Denerim about the two of them. He'd gotten angry at the look of surprise on Eamon's face when the Arl realized he wouldn't be able to get Alistair to do what he said. But after that "conversation" he realized why Marlana had been so furious after Eamon had pulled her to the side for a private talk. So the separate rooms were a petty revenge.

When he'd sought out Lana after that disastrous conversation with Riordan and the truth of why it had to be a Grey Warden to kill the archdemon, she'd been nowhere to be found. None of their other companions had seen her either. Except for Morrigan, who had also seemingly vanished. The worry that the apostate was finally showing her true colors by betraying the woman she supposedly called friend and sister made his already churning gut twist up even more.

He was so worked up that when the knock came at the door, he flung open the door without asking who it was. Seeing Morrigan there instead of Lana was a brief moment of consternation before his ingrained dislike reared its ugly head, "What do _you_ want? And more importantly, what have you done with Marlana?"

While her yellow eyes glittered with anger, he didn't get the expected comment. "We merely talked, she and I. Which you and I need to do now."

"Really," the sarcasm dripped heavily in that one word, "What could we possibly talk about?"

One sharp nail jabbed into his chest causing him to step back, giving the witch enough space to enter the room and close the door behind her. "I didn't think you wanted anyone to hear your precious Warden secrets."

Alistair stepped back further so she wasn't in his personal space anymore, his jaw was clenched as he spoke, "And what about them? Been eavesdropping again?"

"No. I have been reading Flemeth's grimoire."

He crossed his arms against his chest, "This should be good."

"Before I go any farther, you need to read this." A piece of parchment was shoved into his face. He scowled at her before taking it, and felt the breath hitch in his chest when he saw that it was sealed with blue wax and the Cousland crest rather than the double griffin seal of the Wardens in red wax as Marlana normally signed things. Ignoring Morrigan's sneer, he opened the parchment to see a brief note written in Lana's elegant hand.

_Alistair,_

_Please listen to Morrigan with an open mind._

_Lana_

Frowning he looked up at the witch, "So what do you have to say that Marlana has to send a note rather than be here herself?"

"Because for some unfathomable reason she feels this is a decision that you need to make for yourself."

"And that would be?"

"As I told Lana, I have a way out, that no Warden need die against the archdemon when you face it in the next few days."

"It has to be something particularly gruesome if the Wardens of the past haven't used it. What do we have to do? Sacrifice babies and virgins?"

Morrigan's expression tightened, "No, one has to be created with just enough tainted blood to act as a vessel for the soul of the god that once was."

He desperately wanted to sit down, but didn't want to give Morrigan the satisfaction of seeing him in a moment of weakness. He knew he wasn't going to like what she was going to say, but was going to listen to anyway. If there was a way to keep his love from sacrificing herself… "I think it'd be best if you start at the beginning and explain to me what you have in mind."

She studied him for a long moment in silence, for once it wasn't mocking, but thoughtful. In a surprisingly soft voice, she began to lay out the details. How a child could be conceived with enough tainted blood through a ritual. And that the child could be used to hold the soul of the old god when the archdemon was slain by a Grey Warden instead of the Warden dying with the dragon. She finished, "For the child have that taint, requires a Warden parent. Riordan's Taint is too strong, and since we don't know when the Orlesian Wardens are going to arrive…"

"WHAT? Are you out of your frigging _mind_? I'm not sure which I'd rather do, die from the archdemon or sleep with you?"

Morrigan grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his face down so she could glare into his eyes, "You arrogant fool! Do you truly believe that Marlana would allow you to sacrifice yourself? After she refused to take you to free Anora from Howe? You and I both know that she'd just knock you out again. Possibly here in Redcliffe where you'd be safe until everything is over."

She let go and shoved him back as he started to shake his head, "And if somehow she was convinced to let you go, do you want to think about what your death would do to her?"

"What do you mean?" He asked in a tight voice.

"'What do I mean' the fool asks? I still do not understand what she sees in you, but even I know that your death would be her ending."

"She's not the type to commit suicide."

Surprisingly Morrigan's shoulders slumped and for the briefest moment looked…sad, "Not knowingly. But if you died in a way she could prevent… You and I both know that she'd slowly carve away her own soul in recrimination, that by the time her death did come it would be an empty shell that died since the woman we both care about would have died a long time before."

She straightened and glared at him again, "And yes, I do care about her. She is the first person I could ever consider as a friend and is my chosen sister. While I want to redeem the soul of the god that once was, I want my friend to live. Moreover that she be happy." Her pretty features twisted in disgust, "Sadly for her to be happy, you must live. Otherwise I would have paralyzed her so that she'd be safe and you'd get to do your noble sacrifice. Is it that much to ask that you sacrifice some time and seed so that she might live her life with you?"

He listened to her diatribe in silence with hard eyes and an expressionless face. "And then when the child is of age you use him against us for the throne?"

The sorceress recoiled as if struck and looked ready to flay him alive, "_Fool_", she hissed. "I have no desire for such things. As I said before, I wish to redeem the soul of an ancient being and my friend to live. As I promised Lana, so I will promise you this. When the battle is over, I will leave Ferelden never to be seen again. And in return neither you nor Marlana shall follow me and I shall be allowed to raise the child."

"And what about the soul of the unborn child?"

For the first time since that horribly awkward conversation started, Morrigan looked shocked at Alistair's question. Just a very small hint of respect colored her tone, "Odd that you should ask the same question she did. As I told her, the child, if you wish to call it that, is soulless. It is an empty soulless vessel awaiting the spirit of the archdemon."

It was possibly one of the most revolting things he'd been ever asked to do, but. But he could see all too easily in his mind's eye Marlana's devastation at his death, how after time the woman he loved would be dead, leaving only ashes of that fiery spirit that he had fallen for. And knew that while he might have the strength to go on without her, he knew that whoever did end up his queen afterwards would always be compared and found lacking. And that a large part of his soul would die with Lana.

And if Riordan was right, and the Warden's spirit was obliterated with the archdemon's… No, he couldn't bear the thought that when the Calling came and with it his end, that she wouldn't be there waiting for him…

"All right, what do I need to do?"


	11. A Clear Moonlit Night

_Author's Note: Yes, total fluff, but it seemed appropriate for a prompt named "A Clear Moonlit Night"_

They strolled together in comfortable silence through the massive encampment. It was so very strange to be surrounded by so many people after having a camp of just 6 other people, a golem and a mabari warhound. Ostensibly, they were doing an examination of the armies they had gathered (Lana had insisted on "they", but Alistair knew it really should be "she", but he didn't want to fight about it), but in reality they were taking one last moment to simply be Alistair and Lana.

"So in the next days, everything should finally be over," he said quietly.

Something in his tone caused her to look up at him in concern as she slid her arm into his. "Yes, if everything goes to plan."

Both grimaced at the same time. In the past year _nothing_ had gone as planned. Except perhaps the Landsmeet, which had gone all too well with their plans. Though one part she hadn't planned and he did, caused Alistair's wry good humor to appear and caused a small grin at the memory of being able to surprise his lady for once. She quirked up one pale brow curiously.

"Just remembering your expression when I asked you to marry me, my love. "

She laughed, a sound as bright and twinkling as the stars overhead, as silvery as her long unbound hair shining in the light of the brilliant moon overhead. The sapphire eyes held more than just good humor and Alistair was pleased to see none of the usual shadows haunted that clear gaze. Nearby Dalish hunters sitting at their campfires looked up at the sound and despite themselves, smiled at the human couple. "I can imagine", she said dryly, "I never expected you ask me at that particular time and place."

Alistair pulled his arm out from hers to wrap it around her shoulders as they continued on their way, hugging her tight to him, "You did expect me to ask you at some point, I hope."

"Expect? No. Hoped for? Yes, very much so. Though truthfully I kept trying to think of a good time to ask you, but I always seemed to be pissing you off instead of putting you in a better mood."

"What? You think after facing demons, abominations, insane dwarves, crazed elves and werewolves I'm going to face groups of even crazier nobles without you at my side? Perish the thought, Marlana."

She laughed, "Oh, well, when you put it that way, my heart… What woman could possibly resist?"

A smirk toyed at his lips, "None, but there was only one that I had in mind…and now you're stuck with me."

"Stuck, huh? Such a romantic comment", she deadpanned, but her dancing eyes gave her away.

He purred, "Romantic, eh? Let's try this for romantic." Before she could respond, he stopped, pulled her up against him and devoured her mouth with his in a long, slow, sweet kiss. When Alistair finally let her go, Lana's expression held that glazed over look that only he had ever been able to cause. As always that makes him smile softly as he runs one scarred and calloused hand along a delicate cheek. And as always, one slim strong hand covers his to keep his hand in place as she leans into his touch.

Sapphire eyes were full of love and lust as she huskily said, "I suppose that might do."

Grinning, and not caring who'll see because they're betrothed after all, he scoops her up into his arms to return back to their tent. She didn't protest as he half expected her to do, instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder.

After all it's a clear moonlit night that was made for lovers. And the last night they could have as their own before reaching Redcliffe and the darkspawn horde. For on the morrow they would have to don the mantles neither wanted, he as the new king of Ferelden and she as a hero. But they were together at least, and would finish it that way.


	12. It's good to be the king

_Author's Note: This week's prompt was "It's good to be the king."_

A cold rain poured down as the procession approached the ancient castle. Mingled scents of fire, smoke, ash and blood (both human and darkspawn) wafted over them, causing a frown to form on his expression. Only seven months since the Blight ended when Marlana shoved a sword as big as she into the head of the Archdemon.

Only one month since they'd finally gotten to marry.

They'd only just returned from their honeymoon when representatives from Weisshaupt arrived stating that his wife and Queen was to also be the Warden Commander of Ferelden. Neither of them had been surprised at that statement, nor at the "request" that she come out to Amaranthine to assist the Orlesian Wardens in getting settled in.

More importantly to reassure the populace that Orlais had not returned to conquer them.

It wasn't supposed to be a long trip, maybe a few weeks at the most, but surveying the damage done to Vigil's Keep, Alistair knew it would be longer than that. That acknowledgement made him hate the fact that the Landsmeet had accepted him as king. He wouldn't be there for her as he normally was. He'd have to trust the other Wardens to do the protecting.

That trust was sorely missing the more he saw how many human bodies were mixed in with slaughtered genlocks, hurlocks and the odd shriek. His experienced eye caught the patterns and realized something had been leading the darkspawn. The Blight was _over_ dammit.

Wasn't it?

In grim silence he led a small portion of his guards to the gates where she was waiting for him. The long silver hair was tied back in a braid as it always was when Marlana was ready for war, only it wasn't silver, but matted almost black from blood. The sapphire eyes held a weary resignation he thought banished since the end of the Blight. The fine silver mail under the stiff black leather of her armor was scarlet from blood as well, and none of the fine silver filigree that decorated the armor could be seen.

Yet the weapons at her back shone brightly under the weak sunlight that came through the thick cloud cover.

"Don't you dare", he almost snarled as she started to kneel before him, "I told you before, you're the absolute last person in this world, or any other, that should kneel before me."

The glint of humor in her eyes told him that was the reaction she was aiming for with her actions. As he shook his head, he absently took stock of those with her. He recognized Oghren all too well, the young recruit who had been to act as the new Commander's guide, but he didn't recognize the tall blond man who looked like he could be another of Maric's bastards and wearing mage robes.

"Mind telling me who your new friends are, love? Though you don't need to reintroduce me to Oghren, it hasn't been that long after all." He shared a grin with her and the only response from the dwarf was an extremely resonant belch.

"I'm sure you remember Mhairi, the poor soul who got assigned to me as my escort."

To Alistair's annoyance the woman bowed and seemed too in awe to speak clearly. It was the armor, he knew it. He'd argued over being a bright and shiny target, but he'd been talked into accepting the monstrosity. Granted it was fine armor… He resolved to get it painted black or something when he found a blacksmith, since he was king, he must have some say in how his armor appeared.

The glint was back in Lana's eyes, she probably had a good idea of what was going in his mind at that moment. He remembered how she had fallen over laughing the first time she saw him in the ridiculous getup.

As always, she had excellent control over the tone of her voice so that none of the dark humor that shone in her eyes could be heard as she softly introduced the man that looked like a brother more so than Cailan. "This is Anders. A mage that I met while –"

"A mage? No! He's a murderer and maleificar!" Ah, and the crazy just showed up on cue. He'd wondered why the templar had wanted to join his entourage to the Keep, and since he had no reason not to, he allowed it. He debated taking a step back as Lana's eyes visibly chilled and narrowed, but realized that it wasn't a good idea for two reasons. First because it wouldn't look kingly, and the second, and far more important, reason was that it might set off Lana even more so. He knew that look and the mood that caused it.

"A maleficar…" she said musingly as Anders visibly tried not to fidget. The mage must have Maric in him somewhere as he said, "Oh come off it, Rylock. You and I both know if you take me back to the Tower I'll just escape for the eighth time."

The crazy look changed to just plain mean, "Oh, you're not being imprisoned again, Anders. This time I'm going to make sure you hang."

At that point Alistair was too busy watching his wife. He knew what her answer was going to be and after what they found when putting down Uldred's rebellion… He agreed. Catching her eyes, he gave her a subtle nod. The thoughtful expression shifted to the wicked glee he knew and loved when she was about to make someone she didn't like pay for it.

Marlana spoke calmly and clearly in a voice that carried over everything else, "I invoke the Right of Conscription and take Anders to join the Grey Wardens."

Silence descended abruptly as Anders stared at her terrified hazel eyes and Rylock snarled. "You can't do that."

"Oh, but she can", came Alistair's smiling response, "As Maric and Cailan did before, I renewed the treaties with the Grey Wardens, including their Right of Conscription."

He left out the fact that he and Lana had made that agreement in all of five minutes while doing other paperwork. Nor the fact the two of them laughed at how official they made it sound too, then celebrated with a glass of wine before going on to more mundane matters.

Rylock stood there sputtering then stomped off muttering that it wasn't the last they were going to hear about this.

Lana watched the templar and shook her head, "Well, I hope that won't cause you too many troubles with the Chantry."

"They won't, because if they do, I'll let you deal with them."

She grinned, "As Queen or Warden Commander?"

"Yes?" They both laughed, then she turned somewhat serious, "Let's go inside, we've stood out in this muck long enough. I'm sure there's a room that's big enough that isn't decorated with dead darkspawn that we can all fit in."

Smiling, Alistair offered her his arm, "Excellent idea as always, my dear."

As Lana slid her arm through his, and Alistair knew his armorer was going to have a fit over the muck transferring from her armor to his, he thought about Rylock's expression at him backing up his wife and mentally grinned. Sometimes it really was good to be the king.


	13. Mother

_Author's Note: This week's prompt is "Mother"._

"It is odd that Marlana has taken such an interest in one particular orphan, when there are many in the Alienage", Zev said as he walked up beside Alistair. The big man was standing by the _vhenadahl_ watching the silver-haired woman talking with Shianni, the rather outspoken elven woman that had taken over the elder's place while he was…missing. While investigating the actions of the supposed Tevinter healers, they'd come across the little girl who had caught Lana's attention.

Alistair was silent for a moment before he said softly, "She knew the girl's mother."

The elf looked at the warrior questioningly, who sighed before continuing, "Apparently Iona, the girl's mother, was the maid of a friend of Lana's mother…they were there when Howe…"

"You need not say anymore, my friend." Zevran studied the young woman that was both friend and leader. "She does seem to have a habit of collecting orphans, does she not?"

It was Alistair's turn to look questioning.

"Well, there's our sweet Leliana, you, and my humble self."

Involuntarily Alistair's hand crept to the locket that Lana had found and restored to him. It had been one of the first things she had given to him that held true personal meaning, not just one of the little trinkets she had a tendency to find for her friends. And it had become more than just the only token of a mother he never knew, but a token of what he shared with his fellow Warden. That'd she'd not only listened to his story about his mother's amulet, but remembered… Then he mentally shook himself, this wasn't the time or place. Besides he was curious about Zevran's too casual comment.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, Zev, I didn't realize…"

Zev looked at him sideways, an unreadable expression in his eyes, "No? The lovely Warden didn't share the story?"

Alistair's jaw clenched, but he kept his tone civil, "You know as I do that unless that person wants others to know, or someone happens to eavesdrop, that Lana isn't the type to spill secrets. Or if she feels there's an immediate risk that needs to be dealt with."

"You are right, templar", Zevran sighed. He gave Alistair another odd look, "You know, as much as I'm sure you'll love hearing this, but we do have something in common."

"Oh? Do tell?" Alistair asked dryly.

"Indeed. We both killed our mothers."

The human's normally warm brown eyes turned a dangerous black, though he didn't move. Yet. Zevran held up placating hands. "Sorry, sorry. Poor choice of words. It is the manner that we lost them. See, my mother died in birth as well. My first victim if you will."

Alistair's anger drained away as he scrubbed his face, "For what it's worth, I am sorry to hear that."

Zevran shrugged seemingly indifferently as the two men continued to watch the two women have a long discussion until Lana very determinedly shove a small pouch into Shianni's hands. Shianni tried to give it back, but Lana refused, sparking a slightly more heated talk. Zev spoke softly with a thoughtful air as he briefly explained how his parents met and how he ended up being raised in a whorehouse until slavers got him and sold him to the Crows. "And the rest of that, my friend, is history. Which you know."

"Maker, Zev." Alistair shook his head and despite the fact he'd gotten better about it, his sense of irony and his glib tongue conspired to get him in trouble. "Well, there is a bit of irony in your comparison though."

"This should be interesting."

He gave Zev a sardonic grin, "Why yes, the irony is that while you were raised in a whorehouse and later became an assassin, you're the legitimate one of the two of us."

The former Crow gave him a startled look, before he grinned which turned into laughter. This set Alistair off, so that when Marlana returned to them, she was greeted by two near hysterically laughing men. At her baffled expression, they just started laughing harder.

She stared at them for a long moment, before huffing, "Males." Then she went off in search of Wynne for more sensible company as assassin and knight tried to get themselves back under control.


	14. Not All Assumptions

_Author's Note: This prompt was "A great many things were assumed that have not held true."_

_And yes, the lyrium addiction templars are forced into is something that horrifies me as a player._

"So templars are addicted to lyrium?" Lana asked Alistair with horrified disgust in her voice. They were sitting together on one side of the evening campfire as they talked quietly. She had been as delicately as possible trying to find out why he seemed so upset about the templars when they'd been at Kinloch Hold. And something told her that it hadn't just been Uldred's rebellion.

She'd been surprised when he opened up to her and told her how the Chantry controlled the templars. Now she was trying to figure out how to ask if he had the same problem, since she was positive Morrigan would have said anything about their lyrium supply being used. However there hadn't been any comments about mysterious depletions of either lyrium powder or potions.

Alistair chuckled suddenly, "Don't worry, they didn't get me with the stuff. I kept coming up with ways of delaying taking my final vows. That's when you get the first dose. At your final vows. You were trying to figure out how to ask me about that, weren't you?"

A faint blush crept into her cheeks at his grin. But she nodded her agreement.

"Anyway, I seem to be an exception that my templar abilities work without it. Lucky me."

Thinking over what she'd seen of the deranged templars in the circle, she shook her head. "I don't think you're an exception, Alistair."

He mockingly placed a hand over his heart and he couldn't keep the faint grin from tugging at his lips, "Awww, I think you just hurt my manly feelings. All one of them."

She slanted a glance up at him, "Well, you are exceptional in some ways. But in this case, I meant I don't think you're the exception to templars needing lyrium to use their abilities."

Warm brown eyes gleamed more gold than brown as he looked down at her as he practically purred, "So I'm exceptional, am I? Care to elaborate?" She flushed a bit more at his comment, but didn't say anything else. Then he sighed and turned serious, "You're thinking about the templars that were locked away with the mages in the Tower, aren't you?"

"I am. We saw that one take out Wynne. And while I'm no expert, I have seen you smite plenty of emissaries, then the rogue mages in the tower… Your smite seemed as effective. If not more so since you had better er, well, aim."

He was tempted to make another witty comment, but while he'd only known her for a month or so, he'd come to know when not to push. Alistair really didn't want her to hit him, or worse yet, be the one to stitch him up. Again. Of course she used whatever that poison was to numb the wounded area, but he didn't really want to find out what would happen the day she made a mistake with the stuff.

So instead of one of his witty one liners, he quietly said, "Huh, Duncan told me once that 'A great many things were assumed that have not held true.' I guess this is one of those things."

"In this case, I'm glad that this particular assumption didn't hold true."


	15. Courage Under Fire

_Author's Note: Yes, second prompt fill for the day. What can I say? Being sick doesn't leave much to do, and coming up with story ideas can make for a great distraction._

_This prompt is "Courage Under Fire"._

_Screeeeeeeee!_

The fire whistled through the air and landed with a loud _THRUMP_. The explosion blasted through the area. While it scoured the ground clear of grass and other vegetation, it licked harmlessly against the rock where the group of men was hunched down for cover.

"The emissary is too far away for me to reach!" Alistair yelled over the newest blast. "I'll need someone to cover me so I can get it!"

Kendrick stared at him incredulously, "Are you insane, lad? You can't go after it alone."

_Insane?_ Alistair thought with near hysterical amusement. _Hardly. More like scared shitless._ He studied the other four men, one with a two handed blade, another with a massive battleaxe, Kendrick dual wielding long knives, the last an archer. All of them were wearing lighter armor than his splint mail, not including the protection he got from his shield.

None of them had his templar abilities.

"Not insane, Kendrick. But the only one who can stop its casting."

The older man sucked in his breath, let it out slowly. Reluctantly he said, "All right. " He turned his attention to the grizzled archer, wondering once again at how a man with just one eye could be so accurate with a bow, "Eric? I know you don't have many, but use those fire arrows of yours to clear as much of a path for Alistair as you can."

Eric, never one for words, simply drew and knocked the arrow, then nodded his readiness to Alistair. The young warrior readied his sword and shield and charged from out of cover and into the fray. Somehow he found enough breath to bellow out a warcry full of defiance as he used his shield to bull his way through the mass of darkspawn. He was surprised, though he shouldn't have been, to feel the presence of the others behind him as he led the way. Flaming arrows arced over their heads, helping to clear the way to the most dangerous darkspawn of the pack they were facing.

A surge of magic that just felt _wrong_ warned the not-quite-templar of another incoming spell, but this time he could do something about it. He gathered his will and let it loose, trying to keep it honed on just the emissary. A beam of brilliant white light blazed down into the darkspawn caster stunning it and stopping the spell just in time. Alistair felt a surge of satisfaction as he decapitated the emissary with a backhanded blow of his sword. Done with the caster, he turned to help the rest of his fellow recruits mop up the rest of the Tainted monsters.

As the others filled their vials from the darkspawn nearest to them, Alistair filled his from the emissary.

"You did an incredible job there, Alistair", Kendrick commented quietly as he walked up to the younger man.

Embarrassed, Alistair shrugged diffidently, "Just doing what I was trained for. Though is it horrible of me that I prefer to use those skills on darkspawn rather than humans or elves?"

Kendrick reached up to clap a hand on Alistair's shoulder, "Not at all, lad, not at all." He looked around the field of dead monsters. "Let's get the bodies disposed of. Then get out of here before more of their friends show up and make you show the rest of us up. Again."

Alistair grinned slightly as he followed the Warden. He didn't want to admit that it was more out of relief of actually being able to do what was necessary, than the praise given. Not that he was going to turn that down. But he truthfully didn't know if he'd be able to face the awful things when the moment of truth arrived. But it had and he'd been able to find the courage to do so.

He hoped he'd continue to do so in the days to come.


	16. Naked Landsmeet

_Author's Note: This prompt fill was "Naked Landsmeet". I had to really think this over without doing the nightmare thing._

"Leliana, can I ask you something?" Alistair stood in the doorway of the armory where the lovely bard was sitting and inspecting her bow.

"Of course, Alistair. Come, have a seat." She patted the empty space of the bench beside her. When he nervously perched next to her before getting to his feet to start pacing nervously, Leliana studied him with concern. "What is wrong? Is everything all right between you and Marlana?"

"Wha? Oh, everything is fine between us. It's just…I'm nervous about the Landsmeet tomorrow. And I could use some advice."

She patted a strand of hair behind one ear as she thought over his comment, "If you're worried about the outcome, you shouldn't be too concerned. Between all the talks you had before this, plus the prisoners that were freed from Howe." A look of disgust crossed her pretty features, "Not to mention what those awful people were doing in the Alienage, you have enough leverage to have it go in your favor."

"No, I'm not worried about that. Well, mostly. It's well. I know if everything goes as planned, I'm probably going to have to make a speech. And…well, how do you talk in front of that many people?"

"Stage fright, Alistair?" Leliana asked, her brow wrinkling a little in thought.

She was laughing at him, he knew it. She just wasn't laughing out loud. He shrugged helplessly, "Yeah."

"I'm surprised you didn't ask Lana."

For a moment his anxiety fled to be replaced by annoyance, "I did. She just looked at me and said 'I don't think about it.'"

Leliana coughed slightly. Yep, she was laughing at him. There was a gleam in those pale eyes that promised trouble as her pursed her lips in thought. "Well, I might have a suggestion."

"What is it?"

Too blandly she said, "Imagine everyone present is naked."

The mental image that conjured was simply _revolting_. "Ugh, ew."

"What?"

"I'm not sure which was worse. Naked Loghain or naked Eamon."

"Alistair! You didn't have to share that." Apparently Leliana had as good of an imagination as he did judging by her expression. Served her right for giving him that image in the first place.

He smirked, "Yes, I did. After all, you're the one who suggested it." He sobered and sighed, "So do you have any real advice? Since you're used to performing in front of audiences and all."

"All right. First of all, you need to have confidence in yourself."

Alistair muttered, "Easier said than done."

She gave him a reproving look, "I believe in you, as do the rest of our friends. Even more importantly, Lana believes in you. What does she say when you say something like that?"

He rubbed his forehead, "It's not what she says, it's what she _does_."

"Oh? Do I want to know?"

"She tries to kick my ass."

Leli grinned, "Tries? What does she actually do?"

She laughed merrily as Alistair reddened without saying anything. "Well, besides being confident, remember to breathe. The lack of air will make you lightheaded and make your anxiety even worse."

Alistair sat down on another bench as she continued to give the basics on performing in front of groups of people. The bard was a little surprised, but gratified, to see that he was actually taking notes, though the little she could see, his handwriting was deplorable.

"Thank you, Leliana. I mean it. I'm sure I'll forget everything by tomorrow, but I really do appreciate your advice."

She smiled, "You're quite welcome, Alistair. And just remember, if all else fails, imagine them all naked. Even Loghain and Eamon."

"You are an evil, wicked woman. You know that right?" He asked before beating a hasty retreat before she could conjure up any more awful ideas.


	17. Jealousy

_Author's Note: Yes, I've been busy with the Snippets, I promise to get back to Vigilance soon. :)_

_This prompt is "Jealousy"._

Listening to a pair of nobles alternating between whining at him and yelling at each other, Alistair felt like he was dealing with a pair of little boys squabbling over who took the other's toys. Not a pair of grown men old enough to be his father, or grandfather in the case of one of the banns. It took all of his discipline to listen to the two men and not start yelling at them to shut up.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, he held up a hand. He was immensely gratified that they did shut up in mid-tirade. "My lords, just so I understand the situation clearly. You, Bann Newell, state that Bann Stroud sabotaged the fence of the paddock you had your prize stallion in. And this was to avoid paying stud fees when the stallion ended up in the pasture that Bann Stroud keeps his pureblooded Antivan mare who happened to be in heat and serviced said mare?"

The "grandfatherly" Bann nodded and murmured, "Indeed, Your Majesty."

"And Bann Stroud, you contend that Bann Newell has always neglected his fences in such a manner and so do not feel you are responsible for the damages nor the stud fees?"

"Exactly so, Sire", puffed the other man.

_Maker help him_, Alistair thought, _at least I was forewarned about this case. Funny how being raised in a stable is actually helpful for once being a king. Lana's lucky, she's off hunting darkspawn, not dealing with idiot nobles. Oh well, at least it's not over an apple tree._

Not allowing his irritation at the two men show, or the envy he had for his wife in distant Amaranthine having fun being a Grey Warden, he turned to some records that were kept of the two men. "Lord Newell, in the past year there's been no less than eight complaints about the state of your fences, seven of which were upheld by your Arl. Including the paddock in question."

No longer being affable, Alistair turned dark eyes upon the man, who squirmed a great deal and babbled nervously. His opponent started to preen, but not for long as the king pinned Stroud down with a similar dark look. "And Lord Stroud, I wonder, why would you keep such a valuable animal in a pasture that isn't well guarded? Or kept in a barn at night? Antivan warmbloods are known notoriously for not dealing well with our climate which is much colder and damper than Antiva."

He never thought he'd miss Zev's complaints about the difference between Ferelden and Antiva, but he did. He also wondered if the former Crow realized just how much he'd learned from those complaints.

"Ah, well, you see your majesty…" The bann trailed off nervously under the deceptively friendly and receptive expression on the king's face.

"My lords, I'm not going to drag things out anymore than this. It's clear you each decided to take advantage of the situation. So my ruling is the following. Bann Stroud is not responsible for the damages done to the fence, but he is responsible for the stud fees since he clearly took advantage of the stallion wandering around. Bann Newell, you are to tend your fences better and to give you some encouragement, I'm fining you for allowing such a large, dangerous animal to be able to wander around in such a manner." The figure he named made the man blanch, it wasn't enough to beggar the minor lord, but it was enough to make him think about tending his property better.

Alistair was more than irritated with their Arl who should have dealt with this nonsense to begin with, but had a feeling the man was tired of dealing with the fractious lords. Seeing the glum faces on both men, he figured that he'd reached the right solution. After that, all the other lords that grievances decided to take them to their Arl. Said man looked even more glum than Newell and Stroud combined when he realized he'd have to deal with them after all.

Turning on the charm, he smiled easily at the Arl as he invited the man to have lunch with him, Alistair figured he'd best mend his fences with at least one of the nobleman in the area.

Marlana sat listening to Lady Liza drone about land that was given to her by Rendon Howe and debated who she wanted to kill more. The idiot in front of her who thought she was going to uphold one of Howe's decisions, or her supposedly loving husband who saddled her with the title of Arlessa in addition to Weisshaupt's decision to make her Warden Commander. She refused to listen to the little niggling voice that reminded her that he'd decided to give that title to the Warden Commander of Ferelden, but she wasn't feeling particularly understanding at that point.

Instead she found herself envying her husband for being able to move on from whatever area he was currently in.


	18. The Hardest Thing

_Author's Note: Prompt "The hardest thing I've done in my life."_

"I'm sorry, my lord. Truly, I am."

The man with weary hazel eyes, whose dark auburn hair was shaggy and somewhat unkempt had a few telltale streaks of grey, the stubble on his jaw even more so, shook his head at the apology. "There's nothing to apologize for, your majesty. That she's still alive is more than I could hope for."

Alistair winced, "Please. Call me Alistair, we're going to be brothers after all."

"Then call me Fergus, for the same reason." Fergus Cousland shook his head, "My little sister actually found someone willing to marry her. And is the king no less."

The boyish grin was a shadow of itself, but still reflected part of the new king's charm, "Hey now, Lana's got a bit of a temper, but she's not that bad. And I'm not king. Yet."

Fergus snorted, "That's because she likes you, you didn't see how she treated the would-be suitors she didn't like."

He thought over what she'd done to people that she didn't like during their "adventures" while dealing with the civil war and the Blight. He had a good enough imagination to picture how she'd scare off potential suitors that didn't meet her approval. Dryly, "Oh, I have a good idea. Anyway, you've had a long trip to get here and I shouldn't be selfish by keeping you here. I'll have a room set up for you in the family wing, if you want to…"

Alistair trailed off and wondered how did you offer a man that he could visit his unconscious little sister?

"If I want to what, Alistair?"

"Er, well, if you wanted to visit Lana. She's…in the Queen's Suite…"

Though clearly heartsore and weary, Fergus smiled warmly. It was so much like the one that his sister flashed when happy that it made Alistair's chest ache. "Thank you, brother."

He managed to choke out, "You're more than welcome."

A nod before the weary warrior got to his feet to head out, but stopped at the door, "Just remember one thing, Alistair. And it's what kept me going through the worst."

"And that is?"

"Where's life, there's hope."

He couldn't help the brief flicker of grief that passed over his face, "That's one of her favorite sayings."

"I know, who do you think I picked it up from?" Then the man was gone, clomping down the hall in his battered armor. Alistair scrubbed his face and muttered, "Maker's breath, now I can understand why Oghren has pickled himself."

"You did really well with that, Alistair. And I'll see to the arrangements for the Teyrn." Alistair jumped, having forgotten Teagan was in the room since the man had been so quiet during the pain filled conversation between the two eventual brothers. Despite it all, Alistair kept hoping that it would be when, not if. But it'd been two weeks since the archdemon had been killed and she still hadn't woken from the coma…

She'd been in a coma ever since she'd killed the archdemon weeks before. At first no one was overly concerned due to the severity of her injuries along combined with fatigue from not enough rest when they were frantically getting the armies mobilized to go after the Horde. But once the last of the wounds had been healed, she still hadn't awakened. Wynne, along with the rest of the healers the Circle could provide, hadn't been able to figure out why Lana remained in a coma when there hadn't been any damage to her brain.

"Well? Teagan, what conversation were you listening to? That was the hardest thing I've had to do in my life. I had to tell him that his parents, wife and son were slaughtered at the orders of his father's best friend. That his little sister is just barely alive after she did what should have been my responsibility?"

Teagan got to his feet and clapped Alistair on the shoulder, "Truly, you handled that better than you think. And try not to be drunk for your own coronation this afternoon. You'll want to be able to get drunk afterwards."

Alistair shook his head and sighed, "And see if you can raid the armory to find some better armor for Fergus. Somehow he doesn't strike me as the type who'll want to deal with fancy clothing for the ceremony this afternoon."

With a nod the other man left, leaving Alistair to his dark thoughts alone in what was now his study.


	19. Protests

_Prompt: Protests_

"Blessed Andraste! You're going to do what to a _child_?" Alistair was horrified as he stared at the Knight-Commander Greagoir as he, and three other initiates, listened to the man outline what was involved with a Harrowing. The other three edged away from him as if to avoid incrimination with the protesting young man.

Stone grey eyes regarded Alistair while the older man's lips thinned, "We do it for the good of all, even the mages. You know full well that mages are in danger of being possessed by demons every day, this is the best way to make sure they have the strength to resist them."

"But…you're going to put a _demon_ into a girl who is barely fourteen! How is that right?"

Greagoir's became even more stern, "She's been training for ten years, either she is ready now, or never. Would you rather her be Tranquiled?"

Normally warm brown eyed were bleak as he shook his head. At least the Harrowing gave the child a fighting chance. Child, ha! He was only four years older…but it made a world of difference.

Content that there were going to be no further outbursts, they were led to the Harrowing Chamber. A large, circular chamber at the top of the tower, plain save only for the fount in the exact center, where the lyrium would be mixed to send the girl's spirit into the Fade where she would confront the demon. The initiates were directed to their places amidst the full-fledged brothers. All wore their helms, save the Knight-Commander. Alistair tried, and failed, not to feel like a coward hiding behind the helm, even though he wasn't the one who had the responsibility of striking down the abomination the mage might turn into.

The mage in question proved to be a quiet little thing, with mouse brown hair and eyes. She listened in silence as she was given her directions and still in silence went to her fate.

Even though Alistair didn't know her, the moment her eyes opened and the look of glee appeared, he knew. And felt sick, though he was ready to cut down the thing the girl had been turned into, there was no hope for her now. But the assigned templar, he hadn't bothered to learn the man's name since he was indistinguishable from the others in his armor, fulfilled his Maker given duty. The abomination didn't even have a chance to finish whatever spell it was casting as the brilliant light crashed down from the heavens, stunning it and draining its mana.

The Sword of Mercy went through the heart, then the neck to make sure it was finished. Grateful for the concealment of the helm, Alistair bowed his head slightly making sure that his armor wouldn't reflect his movement.

Not surprisingly, the Knight-Commander escorted him specifically as the initiates were going to the boat to return to the monastery. "Now you see why we do the Harrowing, Alistair? This way we can protect the world from those not strong enough to resist the creatures."

"No, I don't, Ser. She was still a child and you threw her to those monsters. But who am I to argue?"

Ser Tarvish, the lucky soul who got to lead this group to Kinloch Hold, growled in warning, "Alistair."

Greagoir waved him off, "It's just as well the boy voices his protests now, but given time he'll come to understand the importance of our work."

Until that day, Alistair was convinced that lyrium addiction was the worst part of being a templar. But he realized he was quite wrong and vowed to the Maker, aware of the irony, that he was going to do what he could to avoid those terrible oaths.


	20. A Moment So Powerful

_Author's Note: Prompt Fill "A Moment So Powerful It Touches One's Soul."_

"What's this?" Alistair asked curiously as Lana held out her cupped hands gently cradling something that shone brightly in the rays of the setting sun. Their group of misfits had just finished setting up camp when the young woman asked to speak to her fellow Warden privately. Baffled, he'd walked with her to the opposite end of the clearing the camp was in. That was when she carefully pulled out a small bag that she pulled the mysterious object out and now was holding it out to him.

She gave him a surprisingly shy smile, "Something I think you'd like to have."

It wasn't unusual for her to give random things to her companions that she thought they might like. When asked about why she sought out gifts, Lana's response had been, "These are dark times, if I can give someone something to brighten up their life even a little, it's worth it, right?"

And right at this moment, he was feeling a bit of nervous flattery that she had her hair tied up with the blue ribbons he'd gotten for her a few days before at Redcliffe. He'd realized as Marlana was browsing through a merchant's wares that while she would look for things for the others, no one seemed to give her anything. He'd wanted to get her something, but didn't have a clue as to what he could get her. While she listened to everyone else, she wasn't the type to really open up to anyone else.

It was when she was trying to persuade Leliana, then Wynne, to help her cut her hair, that he started to have a vague idea what to get her. Both of the older women had been horrified at the thought of chopping off her lovely hair, which was her sole source of feminine vanity. He'd been as equally horrified at the thought, but hadn't dared voice it. So when he saw the ribbons at the merchant's stall, he thought it would be an elegant solution. They'd allow her to keep her hair long by letting her keep it neatly wrapped up for travel and battle.

Initially when he gave her the small bundle of ribbons, he'd felt like a foolish boy trying to impress the pretty girl that would never notice him. But the delight in her eyes at his gift had gone a long ways to make up for that embarrassment.

Now she was giving him another gift, but he couldn't understand why it had to be private. Normally she would just give what she found to that person wherever they happened to be in camp. And for some reason she seemed incredibly nervous giving this gift to him. Until he carefully picked up the metallic object that was slightly warm from her touch and realized that it was a silver amulet. One that had seen better days judging from the mended cracks…

Alistair tried swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. It was his mother's amulet, the one he'd destroyed in a fit of temper when he was told he was going to the chantry. Someone had gathered all the pieces and painstakingly put it back together. The glue was long dried so it hadn't been Lana who had repaired it so he wondered who had gone to such lengths.

Finally he found his voice, even though it was rough with emotions and wonder, "This… This is my mother's amulet?"

She nodded mutely, sapphire eyes still nervous.

"Where did you find it?"

Her voice was so soft that it was difficult to hear her response, "I found it in Eamon's study when we were clearing the castle out of the undead."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say. "And you found it like it is now?"

Another silent nod.

"Huh, I wonder why he did that?" He truly did wonder, Alistair thought the Arl had given up on him after his behavior towards the man the few times Eamon had gone to see him.

"Maybe you meant more to him than you realized?"

He looked down at the amulet feeling more than a little troubled, "I'll have to ask him if, no, when he recovers."

"Where there's life there's hope, Alistair." He smiled at the tone in her voice, besides the meaning of one of her favorite encouraging phrases, as he put the chain around his neck. It was a little tighter than he cared for, but it wasn't too tight to choke him in combat. The next decent sized town they were in, he'd see if he could find something that was longer. Then another thought struck him.

"How did you know what this is?"

Lana scuffed one foot nervously as she clasped her hands behind her, "I remember you telling me how bad you felt about breaking it. When I saw it, I thought that it might yours."

Alistair was shocked, after all she'd done so far, this touched him the most. During the trip from the Tower to Redcliffe, he'd told her about Eamon raising him and his fit of rage at being sent to the Chantry. At the time she'd been warmly understanding, but under that understanding there'd been a hint of anger, but not directed at him. When Isolde showed up after they defended the town, he'd realized who that anger was directed at.

He'd been somewhat surprised at her reaction to Isolde, particularly since it was clear that Marlana wanted to kill the Arlessa, and didn't understand why. It wasn't until they were in the stables that he'd grown up in that he'd slowly began to understand, with Leliana's help, that he meant something to Lana as the possibility of being more than just a friend and fellow Warden, hence her reaction to Isolde.

Still, Alistair was amazed that she remembered his mother's amulet.

He cleared his throat again, "You remembered that? Really?"

"Well, yes." Alistair blinked a little as a faint blush began to creep across her cheeks, "You… mean a lot to me and when I saw it I figured it was yours. Well, hoped it was anyway."

Ever since Lothering… No, he corrected himself. Ever since their time in the Korcari Wilds, he'd occasionally entertain thoughts of kissing her, but in that moment he felt the urge to scoop her up and kiss her. Yet, he wanted that kiss to mean more than just a simple thank you. Instead he fell back on his sense of humor to lighten up the moment. He grinned, "Wow, well, right now I could dance in celebration! Bring on the minstrels!"

She grinned back, bright blue eyes dancing, "Well, I'm sure we could persuade Leliana to play a tune or two."

He bowed to her then held out his arm, "In that case, would my lady do the honor of giving me the first dance?"

As Lana slid her arm into his with a cautious, but sweet smile, he really did feel like dancing as he escorted her back to the rest of the camp. He'd always heard about one's soul being touched , yet never believed it. But now...now Alistair felt like she'd not only touched a part of his soul, it felt like a long open wound was starting to heal from that touch.


	21. I am not Emperor Drakon

_Prompt: "I am no Emperor Drakon."_

Alistair read and re-read the letter that had been waiting for him upon his return to Denerim. He was already angry that no one had thought to forward the letter that had been sent to him by Lana that was marked Urgent, when he saw the date that anger had turned into something closer to fury since it was buried in a pile of other unimportant correspondence. It'd been three weeks since she'd sent it and was probably wondering why he hadn't responded yet. He knew she hadn't come seeking him out due to the mess in Amaranthine, which was probably just as well for whoever was stupid enough to overlook the letter.

However as he read the letter again, one in a code they'd worked out privately before she left to take charge of the Wardens, he couldn't describe just how furious he was feeling.

_Alistair,_

_ First of all, I'm _fine_, but there was a problem with Rylock, that oh so charming templar that disputed my Conscription of Anders. She set a trap for Anders thinking that she could take him back to the Tower for her twisted judgment without me being the wiser. Unfortunately for her, Anders wasn't alone. I was there, as were Nathaniel and Oghren. Rylock and her fellow templars didn't survive the encounter even though I did try to talk her down._

He still couldn't believe she'd recruited Nathaniel Howe of all people. But then again she'd recruited Zevran and that had turned out far better than expected. And since Nathaniel was a childhood friend, he couldn't blame her for giving him a second chance. He went back to reading.

_ Yes, love, it was a sincere attempt at diplomacy and not one of my infamous baiting incidents._

_ She seemed to believe that the Chantry is above Crown Law and didn't care that she was committing treason when she threatened me. I was…unhappy about that fact. I hope you can forgive me for exercising what is your prerogative, but she threatened me not just as Warden Commander, but also Arlessa (which I still haven't forgiven you for) and Queen._

Despite the seriousness, he had to grin at the comment about the title of Arlessa. He'd figured that giving the Arling to the Wardens would let them support themselves without having the entire country paying tithes. When Lana had agreed to the idea, she clearly hadn't thought about the fact that since she was the one who had led them during the Blight and slew the archdemon that Weisshaupt would make her Warden Commander.

_ I have addressed the situation with Revered Mother Leanna and Ser Rylien, both of whom were not pleased with Rylock's actions. And I was polite. But if Her Grace the Grand Cleric hasn't addressed this with you yet, she probably will shortly. I just wanted to give you a heads up if she hasn't said anything._

_ All my love,_

_ Lana_

He rubbed his forehead as Teagan watched the king worriedly. Alistair explained the contents of the letter tersely and was gratified to see Teagan pale, then flush slightly. "This is inexcusable, Alistair. That templars believe they could attack Marlana and get away with it."

Alistair snorted, "Inexcusable? Try suicidal. If it were the average hunting party of three or four Templars, Lana alone could have dealt with them. That she had Oghren with her? It would have been even quicker, if not messier. More than that… The only one they would've been able to hurt is Anders, since she didn't mention any permanent harm done, the worst they probably did is drain him. If they even had a chance to do so."

The other man sat back in his chair and thought hard about what Alistair had said. He thought over the abilities of the people involved and just what the king was capable of if there was a remote chance that he considered someone a threat to the woman who was more than just his wife. And Eamon's warning about handling the young man carefully when it came to Lana since the older Guerrin had underestimated everything between the two Wardens. Or how Alistair would react to threats to Lana, since they all knew how she would react to threats to him. Eamon had thought that Alistair's easygoing nature meant he'd listen to the man who raised the young man, which went horribly wrong for Eamon.

So Teagan was understandably cautious when he asked, "What are you planning to do?"

Alistair gave him a friendly smile, "I'm just going to remind Her Grace that this isn't Orlais and I'm not Drakon."

Teagan had heard the term poleaxed before, but he'd never experienced it quite like this before. He rubbed his forehead to stave off the incipient headache, "Alistair, what does the long dead Emperor Drakon have to do with this?"

"The fact that while I may have been trained as a templar doesn't mean I'm going to going to cater to the Chantry's whims."

That headache was really starting to grow, "Please tell me you aren't actually going to say anything like that to the grand cleric."

Alistair gave him one of those infuriatingly charming smiles of his, "Of course not, I'm going to be polite. Charming even. But I am going to let her know that the particular attitudes Rylock displayed towards the Wardens and my Queen are very much not acceptable."


	22. Life on the road

_Author's Note: Prompt "Life on the road can change one's perspective." As a warning this is a bit dark and alludes to some potentially awful, if necessary, actions._

The air was redolent with magic, human and darkspawn, as well as the screams (of pain, fear and anger) and the clash of weapons of more mundane warfare. Warily, Alistair scanned the battlefield since there was far more human magic than could be accounted for with Wynne and Morrigan. As always he kept one eye on his fellow Warden as he alternated between blocking attacks with his shield before flicking out his blade to take out a tainted monster or lashing out with said shield at some unsuspecting opponent. Amidst the chaos of battle, he saw some people frantically gesturing amongst the refugees that were under attack from the massive darkspawn band.

Once, not so long ago either, he would've been greatly disturbed at the thought of apostates. But now? Now, he was just grateful there was more support against the disgusting creatures. Instead he reserved his templar abilities just for the darkspawn. He was just grateful that there were no blood mages. Or at least, there was no blood magic being used by the apostates. And at that moment he admitted to himself that he'd worry about a blood mage later, much later, as long as they didn't start sacrificing people.

Fortunately, the mages limited themselves to much more mundane spells. And the emissaries were easily targeted by either his smite, the arrows of the archers or the apostates.

"Got your back", came a soft voice that was accompanied by a gurgle of a dying gunlock from behind him. Knowing that Marlana was using him as a shield, even as she guarded his rear, was greatly reassuring to the warrior. More focused upon the situation at hand, he began to hack a bloody swath through the mass, every so often out of the corner of his eye he'd see Lana's flashing blades, but more often she was a warm and friendly presence at his back. As they tried to regroup with the rest of their companions since the two Wardens had gotten separated from the rest as the darkspawn had focused on them.

Realizing just how thick the mass was around them, Alistair yelled out, "We're going to have to make a stand!"

"Agreed!"

So they stood together back to back, letting their presence be an irresistible lure to the monsters, letting the darkspawn smash themselves upon their blades in a bloody firebreak. Every so often there was the touch of magic, either Wynne's familiar, cool, gentle touch, or an unknown mage whose magic felt like sunlight and tasted of cinnamon. Either way, the magic soothed away their wounds and kept renewing their energy. Sometimes there was Morrigan's dark touch as assorted creatures blew up, taking others with them. With that support they fought for what seemed like hours, howling their challenges and warcries to keep the Warden's ancient foes attacking them rather than the others.

Then the last shriek squalled out its death scream under Alistair's heavy boot as Lana eviscerated a Hurlock. In the sudden silence, the two cleaned their weapons, sheathed them and leaned against each other, exhausted despite the bolstering spells cast upon them. Wearily he studied the mounds of corpses that surrounded the two Wardens and wondered if he had the strength to clear a path. He looked down at Lana leaning against him and realized she was asleep on her feet. Deciding a rest was in order, he slowly lowered the two of them to the blood soaked ground to recover their energy.

He was awakened from the slight doze he'd fallen into by the mages clearing the way through the dead monsters by a combination of different spells. When Alistair opened his eyes he was somewhat bemused by the fact that Wynne was working with the other mages without complaint. The biggest surprise to the not-quite-templar was the look of concern on Morrigan's face when she studied Lana's pale face and dark circled eyes. He'd been told repeatedly that the bitchy apostate was Lana's friend, even called herself that, but he'd never seen concern in those cold topaz eyes before.

Alistair cleared his throat, "Everyone all right?"

Wynne nodded tiredly, "Of our group, the two of you are the worst off." The 'as always' went unspoken but was clear. Whenever it came to darkspawn they did throw themselves into the fray headfirst to keep the monsters off those who would be susceptible to the Taint.

"And the refugees?" Marlana's question startled them all since her eyes were still closed and she had every appearance of passing out from battle fatigue.

"Most of them are fine."

"Most."

Morrigan spoke a little impatiently as Wynne hesitated, "A girl got away from her mother to run to her father. She touched the blood on his armor."

Dark blue eyes opened as their owner slowly got to her feet, "Do you need me or Alistair to examine the child?"

It was Morrigan's turn to hesitate, this was enough to disturb even her, "There is no need, you can already see the Taint running through her."

There was no sign of the normal silver-white brilliance of her hair under the filth from the battle, in fact it barely shifted as she bowed her head, "I'll take care of her."

Alistair finally broke his horrified silence, "Lana, you aren't the only Warden here."

A soft sigh, "No, but I can make sure that it's quick and painless. I need you to do the harder task."

He frowned at her.

"I need you to explain to her parents why I have to do the unthinkable to their daughter."

Slowly and carefully he got to his feet and gently gripped Lana's shoulder, "If you change your mind on the way, tell me. As awful as it is, even I know there's nothing we can do. And if we let her go, she could infect other people."

He surveyed the area and groaned, "Maker, I don't know how we'll manage to dispose of the corpses. Normally we don't have that many to deal with."

One of the apostates cleared his throat, they'd stayed silent in the background not wanting to draw the attention of a person who clearly wielded templar powers, "Well, Warden, most of us know enough of the powerful fire spells to burn the corpses. We can also make sure the fire remains contained to this area."

Grateful for the offer, Alistair nodded his acceptance as he and Lana went to fulfill one of the terrible duties of being Wardens. To try to distract himself from the upcoming conversation, he reflected on how his time on the road had changed him. Only a few months before he was ready to lead a hunting party against Morrigan and Flemeth, even though it was no longer his responsibility as Duncan had pointed out to him. Now he was truly grateful for the difference those "illegal" mages had made in this battle and knew that unless they did something terrible, he would let them go.

In the end, Alistair had to admit to himself that he didn't want to risk subjecting them to any lingering horrors in Kinloch Hold.


	23. Ostagar

_Author's Note: Prompt __**Ostagar**_ - _Anything relating to that place (even RtO)_

"Warden? Warden Alistair?" A male voice gasped out behind the young warrior as Alistair went in search of the mage the Revered Mother wanted to hara-, erm, deliver a message to. Grateful for the potential diversion, he turned around to see a young elven man in a messenger's uniform standing nervously before him.

Trying to settle the poor guy down, Alistair smiled at him warmly and winced internally when the elf seemed even more nervous. "Yes, I'm Alistair. What can I do for you?"

"You've been asked to come to the healer's tent, something about a recruit by the name of Daveth."

"Maker's breath! Hasn't that idiot learned by now?" Alistair didn't realize he'd said that out loud until he saw the messenger's eyes widen. "Oh, not you. Thank you for letting me know, if you could let them know I'm on my way?"

With a hasty bob of his head the elf took off and Alistair. There'd probably be more stories going around about the Wardens after this. Grimly he went to the healers to see what mess Daveth found himself in this time.

Alistair arrived in time to see an older man finish wrapping a bandage around the pickpocket's stomach along with a lecture about not angering women who carry weapons. And more importantly know how to use them. Daveth seemed to be ignoring the healer, until he saw Alistair glaring at him over the man's shoulder, arms crossed his chest in anger. The rogue paled, clearly remembering the last time he was at the receiving end of Alistair's temper.

"Look, Alistair, it's not what you think it is!" Daveth was clearly scared.

The healer snorted as he cleaned and put away his equipment, "You're lucky she didn't gut you or geld you, son. Though I am surprised that she brought you in to be healed."

Daveth laughed nervously, "Oh, she's not the one who did it."

With a disbelieving grunt, the healer left, leaving Daveth to deal with Alistair. The not-quite-templar continued to glower down at the recruit that was in his charge, "Finally got what was coming to you?"

The dark haired man rubbed the back of his head as he considered his response. "I suppose you could say that. I, uh, met the new recruit that Duncan brought from Highever."

Alistair closed his eyes with a groan, "Did you already piss her off, Daveth? You are aware that we'll have to work with her, right? Not a good idea to go into battle with someone out for your blood."

"Noooo, I wouldn't dare with her. She's got the eyes of a killer, she does. She's the one who helped get me here before I bled out."

He could feel a headache coming on and wondered just what Duncan brought into the Wardens. Before he could say anything, Daveth gave him a disgruntled look, "Wished you told me that she's…well a she. And a real cutie too. Well, would be if she didn't have them creepy lookin' eyes."

The blonde haired man sighed, too annoyed to blush over what he was about to say, "Daveth, really, just keep it in your pants. You keep this up and something worse is likely to happen to you before any of us can help. And why do you keep calling Marlana a she? Didn't you at least get her name?"

Daveth laughed nervously before saying, "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I better go look up Duncan before he comes looking for me…"

"Good idea, maybe he can keep you out of trouble."

Rather than risk another lecture from Alistair, Daveth tried to scamper off, but ended up limping off as his injured abdominal muscles hampered him. Shaking his head in disgust and hoping that Daveth would be fit for the pre-Joining darkspawn hunt, Alistair went off in search of the mage the revered mother wanted to him to deliver a message to.

Unfortunately, he found the mage quicker than expected so his lingering annoyance with Daveth bled over to that fun little conversation. The mage picked up on it, thinking it was direct at him and naturally took offense. During that conversation, Alistair was aware of another person approaching, but stood far enough back to give the two men room to finish their conversation. The mage's ire just sparked Alistair's penchant for sarcasm so what should have been a quick request almost ended up…messy.

Finally the mage conceded to go see the cleric and deliberately shoved his way past their observer. Alistair turned to look and knew that trouble had certainly arrived in the form of a very exotic looking young woman with golden brown skin, long silver-white hair and the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen. And wondered where Daveth thought she had the eyes of a killer, they did seem to see their way to a person's soul, but they seemed more shadowed by sadness than ready to kill.

He was right though, she was trouble, even if she wasn't the kind of trouble he was initially afraid of when he got Duncan's letter.

Struck dumb, he said the first thing that came into his head, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

He was rewarded by a faint twitch upwards of one corner of her mouth, and while those eyes were still shadowed, he saw that the shadowed had lightened.

Yep, trouble indeed.


	24. Little Acts of Kindness

_Author's Note: While this may not be a prompt, it's a scene that's been in my head for a bit._

He was sitting at the bank of a very small pond, or maybe it was a very large puddle, idly tossing rocks into the water, trying desperately not to think about anything. Maker, but it hurt to have left Lothering in the straits it was in. Part of being a Warden was to protect the people from darkspawn, instead they ended up leaving the town to its fate. They stayed there too long as it was, the Blight wouldn't be stopped by saving just one town, but...

It felt like he failed the memories of Duncan, Kendrick and the other Wardens all over again. Even Daveth and the detestable (in Marlana's opinion) Jory.

A foolish thought, but there you go. Alistair had wanted to hate the only other Warden that was left alive after Ostagar, wanted to hate her for making them continue on. But he couldn't, because he'd forced her to take up the mantle of leadership. And because he'd seen the sick grief in her eyes at leaving the town defenseless as well.

Besides, after hearing her beg for forgiveness in her nightmares those first few nights after Flemeth rescued them from the Tower of Ishal, he couldn't hate her. Who she was begging for forgiveness from, or for what, he didn't know. He knew he should, since there was something extremely important about her that Duncan had told him while they were waiting for her to recover from the Joining, but he couldn't remember what it was.

Not for lack of trying, but between getting overrun by darkspawn, the news of the massacre at Ostagar due to Loghain's treachery, he was ashamed to admit he forgot. Yet, Marlana didn't seem to expect him to remember anything about her. If anything, she seemed to prefer that, for all that she tried to get to know him and their other unlikely allies.

The former templar wondered what it was that she was so desperately trying to forget that she was trying to smother it under other people's stories and burdens. Even if Marlana had said that she talked with people to get to know the people that were fighting with them. Yet he'd seen how the shadows in her eyes faded a bit when listening to what other people had to say.

Including him.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the subject in said thoughts until she spoke softly, "Are you all right, Alistair?"

With a rather unmanly yelp of surprise he jumped and the rocks fells out of his hands. Instead of laughing at him or making some sort of biting comment, she looked chagrined, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like that."

He grinned a little, "Oh, that's quite all right. I should've been paying better attention anyway. I could've been eaten by some awful monster, like a wolf or Morrigan."

A faint smile tugged up a corner of her mouth that actually reached her eyes for once. Alistair looked away from those dangerous eyes, because he wasn't used to the attentions of an attractive woman that treated him the way Lana did. Not that she treated him any differently than she did the others.

But that was part of what made her so very dangerous.

Aside from the one time she called him a baby in exasperation, she treated him with courtesy. And truthfully, he deserved that with the way he behaved at that point when she was trying to treat a rather nasty injury.

She crouched down next to him, picked up some of the rocks, started pitching them into the puddle-pond, "So are you, all right? I know that things have been rough and we haven't had much of a chance to talk..."

He wanted to shake his head in disbelief, here she was, thrown into a role she clearly resented, and she was checking up on him to see how he was doing. Alistair's response was harsher than intended from that surprise, "Just fine, why?"

Seeing the way she withdrew behind that mask made him instantly regret his words and wondered how to take them back. She'd only been trying to show a bit of kindness. Quietly, "Nothing, I suppose, I won't disturb you again."

Lana gently placed the rocks down before disappearing back into the growing darkness.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why don't I ever learn to think before I speak?" He clutched his head in his hands feeling like an even bigger idiot than usual. Hadn't he just been marveling over the fact she treated him far nicer than expected?

And this after she'd given him a small, golden figurine that had caught his interest. Something she could have sold for more practical items.

Instead she'd given a small smile, while the shadows darkened in her eyes as she said, "Sometimes a little kindness is more important."

At the time he hadn't known how to make it up to her, even though she'd been making sure everyone was getting some of the coin in their travels, he wasn't sure what he could buy her that would make her happy.

In that moment as he got up to go find the silver-haired woman to apologize, Alistair resolved that maybe he could do little acts of kindness for her in return.

-oOo-

"You should be all set now, Alistair", Marlana said as she finished wrapping the wound on Alistair's left forearm. Fortunately since that disastrous conversation, he'd found a way to apologize to her, so matters between them as tense. There was still some sort of tension between them, but the former templar kept telling himself it was due to the problems with the Blight.

He carefully flexed his arm as he banished those disquieting thoughts from his mind, then gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, Lana. Truly. I know I'm not the best patient in the world, but I do appreciate you patching me up"

The big warrior looked at her with concern as she smiled slightly in return without saying anything as she began to clean her hands before packing away the medical supplies they had left. He frowned, "What's wrong? If you're hurt, you should at least let Leliana take a look. Or even Morrigan, since Maker help you, she seems to like you."

For a very brief moment, Lana considered telling him the truth, but wasn't sure if it would embarrass her more than him. Besides, she wasn't sure if the man who was raised in the Chantry would even know about a certain time of the month for women. Instead she gave him another weak smile as she unconsciously placed on hand on her stomach in the futile effort to stop the cramps, "I promise that I didn't get injured."

"Upset stomach?" He asked with sympathy, having had that more than once from his own cooking the few times the head cook of the monastery made the mistake of having Alistair do anything other than chop vegetables. And after making the mistake of actually eating some of the lamb and pea stew the one time he made for an evening meal since they left Lothering. While he pretended to have his feelings hurt over the reactions to that culinary disaster, he was relieved that he was banned from cooking dinner again. At least he could make a decent pot of porridge.

There were some things he was good at, like making witty one-liners and delivering unpleasant news, besides killing darkspawn, but cooking was definitely something he'd never master.

"You could say that, I suppose", came the somewhat wry response. "It's just one of those things I'll just have to live through."

Alistair frowned slightly at her comment in concern, but wasn't sure how to say so. Since that one night he'd snapped at her, he'd been trying to make it up to her, with some progress. She lightly patted the shoulder of the uninjured arm, "I'll live. And just think, when we get to the Tower in a little over a week, you won't have to worry about me patching you up anymore!"

"Oh I don't know, there's something to a pretty lady patching me up." He braced himself for a justified tirade when that slipped out. He cursed himself out for being so stupid, but instead of the expected yelling, she gave him a flustered smile before wandering off. He found himself grinning at her reaction.

Feeling eyes on him, Alistair looked up to see an amused gleam in Leliana's pale blue eyes. "What?"

"So, you and Lana?"

"What about us?"

"Oh, you know. The longing looks, the quiet sighs..."

He could feel the blood rushing to his face, "OH! No, nothing like that."

"Uh huh."

Rubbing his forehead, he wondered where she got this from, "Maker's breath, she's a fellow Grey Warden."

"And Wardens don't allow fraternization?"

"Er..."

Leliana grinned at him, but didn't say anything else. Shaking his head, he headed off to get firewood or something. Anything productive to get away from the knowing gaze of the too perceptive lay sister before she said anything else. To Lana in particular.

It was during dinner that night that Alistair actually got concerned when he saw that Lana wasn't eating. She poked at her bowl of stew halfheartedly, then set it down in front of Oogie, her exceptionally large mabari. Oogie looked the bowl, then his human and whined. She patted his head reassuringly before the dog began to eat reluctantly. Frowning, he realized that Leliana was also watching the younger woman with worry. He shrugged helplessly at the minstrel, who studied the other Warden thoughtfully, then walked over to talk to with her quietly.

Hoping that Leliana could get further than he could, Alistair began to help with the after dinner cleanup. Keeping an eye on the other two women, telling himself that his concern for Lana was the fact she was a fellow Warden.

It was sometime later that Leliana came over to him with a packet of herbs. "Make this into a tea and get Marlana to eat something. It'll help with her problem."

"Is she going to be okay? You know what's wrong?" He asked worriedly at he accepted the packet.

The minstrel gave him an odd look, "It is not life threatening, Alistair. But not something that a lady talks about in mixed company."

He could feel the blood rushing to his face once again, so it was some sort of female thing then. Leliana didn't help with snickering before she went over to her usual spot by the campfire where she began to tune her lute with a small smile on her face. Alistair studied the packet for a moment, before shrugging and making the tea. And couldn't help making a face at the smell. Honestly he couldn't blame Lana if she didn't drink it.

At least they had plenty of honey, he wasn't sure where Bodhan had scrounged it up, but the dwarven trader had been more than happy to include it in the supplies he'd sold them. The honey didn't do anything for the smell, but he hoped it would make it taste better than it did. Since the stew evidently didn't hold any appeal, he decided to take a chance on something else. He dug out some sticky bars of fruit and nuts that was too sweet for him, but Lana had happily devoured. If anything, it'd help with the nasty brew Leliana had given him.

Lana was curled up against Oogie trying to find the energy to get to her feet and crawl into her bedroll when she caught the hint of something unpleasant smelling first. Then one of the group's traveling mugs was before her with a stench she'd ever encountered wafting out of it. Including gifts from Oogie. She looked up into Alistair's sympathetic, golden brown eyes, "I know it smells really awful, but Leliana told me it'd make you feel better from whatever it is you've got."

She cautiously accepted the mug as Alistair lowered himself to the ground next to her, only to get slobbered on by Oogie to show his canine approval for helping the mabari's human when the hound couldn't. Smiling at their antics, Lana took a slow sip and nearly gagged. The tea was wretched, but the sweetness from the honey did help with the taste. Alistair finally fended Oogie off, who resettled behind his human, while said human was trying to hide her smile behind the mug.

Trying to ignore what the effects that smile had on him, Alistair wiped off his hands on his pants, before fishing out the fruit and nut bars. "I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner and figured you could use these right about now."

Dubiously accepting the bars, she looked at him questioningly.

"Well, I noticed you generally have a healthy appetite..."

She froze just as she was about to take a bite from one of the bars, and wrinkled her nose at him, "What are you trying to imply?"

Realizing that he might be putting his foot into it with her again, he rubbed the back of his head nervously, "Heh, um. Well, you're an active sort, which means you generally work up your appetite is all. Add in the fact you're a Warden...well not eating is usually a bad sign."

Lana eyed him warily, and Alistair mock glowered, "You aren't eating."

He nodded approvingly as she took a tentative bite and washed it down with the brew. She asked, "What about you? It feels rude to be eating in front of you."

"Oh, I'm okay." He pulled out the chunk of cheese that he'd been saving which encouraged her to keep eating. After a few more bites, she looked at him thoughtfully, "What were you saying about Wardens and their appetites?"

"Well, amongst other things, the Joining makes Wardens hungrier, we burn through food a lot faster than normal people." He took a bite of cheese, "I was told you never see a fat Warden."

She considered his words as she nibbled some more on the bar and had to admit that whatever was in the tea was helping with the discomfort, and found that she was hungry after all. and remembered what the frantic trip to Ostagar had been like with Duncan. Thinking it over, Lana realized that Duncan did seem to eat more than she expected, but he'd been discrete and she was overcome by grief and rage.

Alistair gave her a sly look, "Shortly after my Joining, I thought I was starving to death. I'd raid the castle larder in the middle of the night." He laughed, "I remember one dinner where I slurped everything down. When I was done my face was all covered in gravy. How the other Wardens laughed."

His laughter stopped when he realized she was staring at him in horror. More than likely at his atrocious table manners since she'd proven, even in the rough camp environs, to be an extremely neat eater. Not that he was paying that much attention to her actions. "Er, well, it was funny."

"I guess..." She frowned a little, "But they didn't tell you about the effects of the Joining?"

"You have to understand, it's not something they liked talking about..."

Lana muttered, "So I've noticed."

She sighed at his baffled look, "Even you do it, Alistair. I've been thinking there's been something horribly wrong with me... At least now I understand why I feel like I'm starving all the time."

"Oh Maker. I didn't realize." And he hadn't, there'd been no time. Between the events at her Joining, the sudden meeting with Cailan, then the battle shortly after... "I really am sorry, Lana. Did you have any questions? I admit, I probably don't as much as you'd like to know, but maybe I can shed some light on it for you."

She finished off the first bar, then started on the second, organizing her thoughts as she drained the last of the tea and couldn't suppress the shudder from the taste. And was inordinately grateful for Alistair thinking to give her the bars to counteract the taste. "Well, I know about the nightmares and hunger...what else changes? Physically that is."

_Right, she would ask the hardest question_, Alistair thought ruefully. He took a breath and let it out slowly before answering, "Well, besides being able to sense the darkspawn... You have thirty years to live. It's the Taint... It's still a death sentence, just not as immediate as if you were Tainted the, well, normal way by the darkspawn."

Lana mulled his words over. Thirty years seemed like a long time. After all, she'd lost everyone else that mattered, and it didn't seem likely that she'd survive to see the end of the Blight... She simply nodded her silent acceptance as she munched on the last of the second fruit and nut bar.

Alistair watched her carefully, surprised at her reaction. Or lack thereof. He'd had no problems, since he'd been looking at his mind going about that time due to lyrium addiction if he'd remained as a templar, but the other recruits in his Joining hadn't reacted so well.

She shrugged at his questioning expression. "It's done and I'm a Warden, no use in complaining about it now. I'm still alive and we have our duty before us. Besides, as long as I draw breath, there's always hope, right?"

He nodded carefully, it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him, but he wasn't going to let her know that. Then she yawned, even though she tried to stifle it. He had a feeling that would happen, since anything he'd ever been given for pain tended to do the same. She flushed in embarrassment, "I'm sorry."

Alistair got to his feet with a smile and offered her a hand up, "Don't be, even if I don't understand what was causing you problems, you've clearly had a rough time of it."

Ignoring the pleasant little tingle he experienced at the feel of her delicate hand in his, he gently clasped it then lightly tugged her up to her feet. When she staggered slightly, he caught her without thinking about it, then tried not to think about having a beautiful woman in his arms. Or the smile she gave him that warmed up those intense blue eyes to something amazing. As quickly as possible, hoping that the darkness was covering up his blush, he shifted so that she was leaning on one arm.

With the utmost courtesy, Alistair escorted Lana to her tent. Before she disappeared into it, she gave him another of those devastating smiles, "Thank you, Alistair."

Confused, he asked, "For what?"

"For your kindness, and for being a friend." Then she crawled into her tent, before the dog took up his customary guard position outside the tent, Oogie paused to give him another swipe of the tongue on his hand, then laid down.

Stunned, Alistair drifted over to the campfire where Sten and Morrigan were listening to Leliana playing a soft instrumental piece. Before he went to his rest, he quietly said to Sten, "I'm taking Lana's watch tonight."

If the Qunari was surprised, he didn't say anything. The giant nodded, though Morrigan stared at him with suspicious yellow eyes.

For once, he didn't care what the apostate thought, he was being nice to a friend who didn't feel well. Friend. He liked that thought, he hadn't had many people he could call that. That Lana was a fellow Warden and now friend... He liked that.

Alistair wouldn't let himself think of any other reason why he liked that idea.

It was the light of the rising sun shining through the flaps of her tent that woke Lana. For a moment she lay in her bedroll frowning. She was still in the undershirt and leather leggings she wore under her leathers, though her boots were in their normal place by the foot of her pallet. She remembered Alistair escorting her to her tent, crawling in to pass out, but that was it. Normally there'd be some sort of memory of her watch. But...nothing. At least the awful cramps and pain from the day before were gone.

A little worried that something had happened, she poked her head out of her tent. The camp was peaceful. Leliana was at the fire stirring breakfast in the cookpot, since she was positioned to watch for any signs of movement. The redhead gave her a brilliant smile, "Good morning! You still have time to get cleaned up before the porridge is ready."

Since she hadn't been in any shape to do so that night, Lana was glad she'd woken up in time for to be able to scrub off some of the grime from the previous day. It didn't take long to do what basic ablutions she could, but when she was done, it felt good to be able to put on a fresh undershirt before donning her armor.

She was still the first one back, though there were signs that Alistair, Sten and Morrigan were beginning to wake. Lana smiled at the other woman, "Thank you for the tea, it helped a great deal."

Leliana beamed, an expression that reminded Lana painfully of her lost friend Gwen, "Oh, it was no trouble. Obviously, I know how such things can be."

The two chatted quietly as Lana helped with the last of the preparations for breakfast while the others came over, their morning rituals done. Once they were done eating, the group quickly began to clean and pack up, not wanting to waste what seemed to be a day of excellent weather for traveling.

Seeing Alistair making some sort of excuse to help Lana in her portion of breaking down the camp caused Leliana to smile a little. Traveling with the two Wardens and the others they'd gathered to their banner so far had convinced the bard that a legend was in the making, but something was missing to make a truly epic story.

What was building between the two Wardens was that missing part.

As she stowed the last of the gear away in Bodhan's wagon, she wondered if she should help "encourage" that relationship, or let it build naturally?

Another glance at the two, and the blushing smile that Lana was giving Alistair told Leliana all she needed. There was no help needed there.

Yet at any rate.


	25. The End of Her World

_Author's Note: This wasn't specifically for Alistair. The prompt was based off R.E.M.'s "_It's The End of The World As We Know It (and I feel fine)." _I promise to work on Vigilance soon._

The ancient Tevinter fortress made of pale stone was clearly dwarven made by the fact it was still standing and had only barely begun to start crumbling. At least from a distance that was the case.

Another time, she would have thought it an incredibly beautiful and breathtaking sight the way the mountains soared in the distance beyond the towers, or the way the valley it guarded was full of majestic trees, most of them pine and other evergreens. The cold wind blowing through the area brought the pleasantly astringent scent of the trees to her even as it tugged at the simple braid her long silver-white hair was bound in.

"Are you all right, Marlana?" Duncan asked quietly as they walked up to the entrance of the stronghold. Their horses had been taken to the picket lines at the orders of one of the perimeter guards. Since the darkspawn had a fondness for horseflesh beyond even what they had for humans and elves, the horses were kept at a distance so that stragglers from the main horde wouldn't go after the animals.

"I'm fine", came the quiet response, ignoring Oogie's whine disputing her comment. Despite what the extremely large mabari thought, she would be fine, she had to be, it was that or give up now. And she wouldn't give up, not when there was still a chance of bringing some form of justice to that murderous, treacherous bastard Howe. She'd never liked the man, thinking him a weasel, but she didn't think he'd stoop to something that low.

The look Duncan gave her clearly agreed with the mabari in that he didn't think she was fine either. Throughout the entire trip after they fled the lands of her family and their vassals, he kept trying to console her the best he could. Trying to encourage her to let some of the grief out. She knew he felt guilty for conscripting her with her father dying before them and her mother refusing to leave his side. Marlana didn't have it in her to accept any kind of comfort though, hollowed out by grief, pain and hate. Over all that was guilt.

Guilt for not picking up on all the subtle clues that there was something very wrong going on. Guilt for not immediately hearing the shouts and sounds of combat the way she should have. Guilt for not being fast enough to first save Oriana and Oren. Not fast enough to save her father. If she hadn't made the detour to the treasury to retrieve the family sword and shield, she would've been able to get to her father in time.

Guilt for not getting to Faolain keep in time. The butchery there had been even worse than in Castle Cousland, if that was possible. Or maybe it was just the memory of holding Gwen in her arms as her best friend and heart-sister bled out. Like Bryce before her, her wounds were too much for anything, even the most powerful healing magic, to mend. All she could do was dose Gwen in such a way to ease the pain.

While she might have Gwen's blood on her hands, she couldn't bear to kill her friend, even though the other young woman begged for mercy.

At least Duncan let her slaughter what few men Howe had left in the small keep to slake her thirst for revenge.

A cheerful male voice broke through the dark memories that threatened to swallow her whole, "Ho there, Duncan!"

The warden-commander's face mirrored her own shock at the man wearing elaborate golden plate with forest green accents, at his back were heavily armed men in serviceable silverite armor that had seen heavy use. While she hadn't personally met him, she knew _of_ Cailan Theirin very well from her father's and brother's stories of the time spent at court.

It took everything she had to keep the tears back at the thought of her father as she sent up a silent prayer, _Oh Maker, Blessed Andraste, please, let Fergus be all right, though I dread telling him what has happened._

Once again she mentally shook herself, this was neither the time nor place to be woolgathering. In silence, she listened to Duncan and Cailan exchange pleasantries, it was obvious that the king had a great deal of hero worship for the Warden. Though the swarthy man tried not showing it, there was a bit of irritation in Duncan's manner at Cailan, at least to Marlana's sharp blue eyes.

Or maybe she just fancied it. She didn't know the king, and he was already irritating her.

Finally the king turned to regard her, and she started to revise her opinion to something much worse than irritating as he openly studied her. The manner he did so would have provoked her to go after him with a blade if he were anyone other than the king.

Pale blue eyes finally met dark sapphire and flinched away. Cailan quietly breathed, "So it is as I thought. Marlana Cousland. You're Duncan's new recruit... I don't believe it, I never thought Bryce would allow you to be recruited."

His words felt like a blow to her stomach. Bleakly she asked, "You haven't heard, Your Majesty?"

Cailan frowned at her, but it was Duncan he turned his question to. "Heard what? News from the north has been unreliable."

Fury filled her at his casual dismissal of her, but rather than say anything, she simply crossed her arms as her eyes blazed while Duncan explained the terrible events that caused him to conscript her into the Wardens. Watching the king pace back and forth in shock wasn't exactly the most encouraging sight, but she continued to wait in silence.

Over the past weeks she'd grown used to being silent. It was better than the alternative.

Shaking his pale blond head, Cailan said, "I...can scarcely believe it! How could he think he would get away with such treachery?"

Marlana answered coldly trying to keep her disdain to herself, beginning to understand why her family had been so very careful about how they spoke about the king, "Because if Howe's plan had worked, Sire, he could had fed you any story he wanted."

He stopped pacing, he met her furious eyes, and even though he flinched, he didn't turn away. "As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north. Howe will hang, you have my word on it."

She bowed to him, "Thank you, Your Majesty." She hesitated, but forced herself to ask, "My brother, Fergus..."

"I'm sorry, he was sent into the field to do some scouting with his men. Unfortunately, there is no means of sending word to him just yet."

Icy fear clawed at her, Fergus scouting? He knew how to hunt and tell basic trail sign, but he had no skill in stealth, and he favored the heavier types of armor considering the style of fighting he favored which made an awful racket when he took even a few short steps. In the wilds, with a horde of darkspawn ravaging the area?

She swallowed back the fear, unaware of how pale she had gotten. Cailan gently rested a hand on her shoulder and said sympathetically, "I apologize that there is nothing more than I can do at this time. All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being."

His eyes suggested something else, though he was careful to pull his hand away from her shoulder. Fury chased away the fear and brought the color back to her face, but she managed to throttle it down again. She faded a little as Duncan and Cailan talked some more about the coming battle. Though she managed to clamp down on most of her disgust, her lips thinned slightly as the king made a comment about how glorious it was all going to be.

Then he finally left with his guards after commenting about being bored by Loghain going over strategy.

"Glorious?" She asked incredulously once the king was out of ear shot, "He thinks this is about glory?"

"Marlana", Duncan said warningly. Though in a way he was relieved to see some sort of life in her, even if it was out of anger at the king.

She sighed, "I'm sorry, Duncan. I just wasn't prepared for his...manner."

He nodded his understanding and gestured for them to continue on. From the entrance they walked through the shadowed ruins that smelled so strongly of pine and other evergreens, some of which were growing in the broken courtyards of the stronghold. They spoke briefly of what was to be done before the Joining and that there were other recruits.

Finally he left to deal with concerns that had come up during his time away, Oogie reluctantly going a long with him. He left her with permission to explore the camp, but not to leave. The thought hadn't occurred to her, where else could she go? She couldn't trust any of her father's allies since she didn't know who may have allied with Howe.

Lost in her thoughts, Marlana Cousland stood at the end of the bridge spanning the valley below as the cold mountain wind tugged at her long braid. It felt that when she finally crossed the bridge, it would be the end of her world as she knew it. Would she recognize herself once this was done?

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before slowly making her way across.

Marlana would be fine. Just fine. She wouldn't allow it to be any other way.


	26. Best Laid Plans

_Author's Note: Prompt "That was not what I planned". As usual, my brain decided to go for silly, even though this was meant to be serious. _

_ This wasn't going quite as planned, _Alistair thought muzzily. Only...what was the plan again?

He lifted his head to survey the room, trying to remember where he was. Somewhere in the palace he guessed since he wasn't allowed to leave without having some sort of escort, and since there weren't any guards in the room, he figured it was a safe assumption to make. Though, that didn't seem quite right.

While he tried to sort his tangled thoughts, he considered the chamber. The furniture, though battered, were finely made, lots of sofas, large chairs, plush settles that had assorted tables, bearing remnants of various snacks, scattered amongst them. Since he didn't remember any rooms like this at the Gnawed Noble, and none of the other taverns would have anything remotely this nice...it had to be the palace. He found himself at a trestle table where he'd been...resting his head. Right, just resting and not drunk at all.

Then his fuzzy brain finally registered there were other people in the room with him.

Zev and Leli were propping each other up on one of the settles, though they were clearly out cold. The sight made him frown a bit since he'd never seen either one imbibe to the point of passing out, except for one time.

Cautiously he took a sniff of the flagon at his elbow. Yep, Oghren's special brew, the only stuff that had managed to knock them all on their asses at once. Except for the dwarf, because of his tolerance for stuff that should be considered poisonous substances, and Oogie, because the dog was the only one smart enough not to try any. Even Sten had made the mistake of trying some.

Blearily he looked around the room again. Ah, there was the dwarf in question who seemed to be in a drinking contest with...Wynne? Yep, Wynne. Given the faint hints of magic he sensing, the mage wasn't above cheating. _Good, serves the sodding dwarf right_, Alistair thought.

An awful sound from the floor drew his somewhat inebriated attention to Teagan passed out on the floor with a flagon on his stomach. For a long moment he was fascinated by the way it rose and fell with the unconscious bann's breath. And he realized that the awful sound was Teagan snoring. At that moment he could understand why his adoptive uncle was generally roomed away from everyone else.

He propped his elbows on the table, dropped his head into his hands, driving the base of his palms into his forehead. There was something he needed to remember, but couldn't figure out what it was through the alcohol induced haze.

"Lana...", he muttered to himself. What about her? Other than the fact that she was unconscious? Though not from overindulging. He grinned a little to himself. She'd gotten a dose of her own medicine with the Oghren Special Brew incident, and while she had grimaced, she'd taken it better than the rest of them. Of course, since was the one who had made it, he supposed it only made sense that could put up with her own poison. Remembering the two times she'd dosed him was enough to make him start to sober up.

She'd never told him what went into that vile concoction, but she had given it to Wynne. Another cautious glance proved that Wynne was slowly putting Oghren under. While the mage would generally use magic to bring someone back up to snuff, she wasn't above making a pointed, and extremely unpleasant, lesson in how one shouldn't drink to excess.

"Wha' about my shister?" The slurred question broke Alistair's fledgling coherency as the mound in front of him stirred and proved to be Fergus Cousland. He eyed his future brother by marriage and suspected the Teyrn was in worse shape than he was.

"Oh, just thinkin' of wha' she'd do to us the next morning." Blast it! That was the thing he needed to remember. His coronation. The _next_ morning. Somehow a small gathering meant to give the new king a minor distraction turned into, not exactly a drunken revel, but something completely unplanned for.

Damn Oghren.

Evidently Fergus had been at the receiving end of Lana's "hangover cure" as well, as he visibly tried to sort himself out. A soft thunk behind them drew the attention of the two men. Wynne had finally gotten Oghren to drink himself into a stupor. She looked over at them, her eyes twinkling with good humor. "Why don't the two of you go get some sleep? You both have a big day ahead of you."

Numbly, he nodded, heaved himself to his feet, then closed his eyes as the room started to sway rather alarmingly. A light, cool touch of Wynne's magic steadied him a bit and allowed him to open his eyes without feeling the urge to get sick. A stronger surge of magic and Fergus straightened up himself. The two men exchanged a sheepish look before staggering off.

Satisfied that the two were gone, Wynne calmly said, "All right, show time is over."

Grinning, Leliana sat up away from Zev, who in turn mock pouted at the movement. All three frowned when neither Oghren or Teagan moved. Instead Oghren started a very loud, raspy snore in time with Teagan's.

As the elderly mage shook her head in exasperation, before starting to cast more spells to deal with the two passed out males, Leliana went to collect help to pour them into their respective beds.

They'd succeeded in distracting Alistair from his nervousness about the up coming ceremony, even if it wasn't quite in the manner originally intended.


	27. The Best Time

_Author's Note: So the brain wanted fluff, and so the brain got fluff. I haven't forgotten V&S, just work has been, well, work and not enough brain power for writing. Hopefully this has broken the block. Once again, thank you to everyone for your patience, and your continued reading._

_Edit: Fixed some of the italicized words blurring together in one massive chunk._

"A sovereign for your thoughts?" A male voice asked lightly from the side from her, giving her some warning that someone was coming up on her. Knowing the owner of the voice, and having sensed him approach thanks to their shared Taint, Lana remained where she was sitting. She'd been watching the townspeople of Redcliffe celebrating the end of the terror that had gripped the area for some time, even if their Arl was still unconscious. She'd joined the celebration for a time, but truly didn't have the heart for it.

It'd only been a few months since her family was slaughtered and her world ended, so while she understood their desire to celebrate, she still felt too raw to be in a mood for a party.

And now the source of her other complicated, emotional confusion stood before her giving her that all too charming smile of his. Despite the ache and confusion, she smiled back. His boyish charm was something she found she couldn't resist. "I doubt they're worth all that much, Alistair. More like a copper, or maybe two at the most."

"Hmm, since I asked, maybe I should be the judge of their value?" Though his tone was still lighthearted, as he walked closer, she could see the worry in his eyes as he studied her.

Trying not to grumble at how he'd been fussing on and off over her injured leg, she patted the empty space beside her on the bench she was sitting on. "Rather than having you loom over me, why don't you have a seat? I think there's an empty mug around here somewhere if you'd like to have some wine."

"Thank you, but I'll pass on the wine." He held up his own mug, "I'm all set there. I will have the seat though." He sat down with a small thump, causing the bench to creak ominously beneath him and Lana to regard him and the bench with a touch of concern. He froze for a moment, waiting to see if the bench would hold him. When no further protests came, he relaxed. Once settled, he arched an eyebrow at her, "Well? What were you thinking about?"

She sighed, "Brooding really."

Worry immediately creased his brow, "Is it your leg? I can go get Wynne."

"NO!"

He blinked at her vehemence. She sighed and ran the fingers of her right hand through her hair, leaving little spikes sticking up. In a slightly calmer tone, she explained, "I've already been lectured by pretty much everyone else about being careful of my leg. _Including_ Morrigan and Sten of all people. Wynne was just the worst. Even Oogie gave the look that he gives to brainless puppies the entire time she nagged me."

A quiet "rrf" of agreement from the other side of the woman told Alistair that the faithful hound wasn't leaving his human unguarded, a fact that relieved him a great deal. Having seen what the mabari with the ridiculous name could do in battle, he knew she was in good hands. Well, paws.

She grumbled, "I still don't understand why the lot of you are so protective of someone you barely know."

Trying to cheer her up, he said brightly, "Because you're our Fearless Leader!"

Sapphire eyes narrowed slightly at him. He grinned even more broadly, "Whaaat?"

They narrowed a bit more as she considered him, the faint twitching her lips detracted from the normally intimidating look. "Alistair, I'm sure you'd be just fine leading our happy little band of misfits if I wasn't around."

"Hm, oh yes, like that would work. Morrigan would try to turn me into a frog then put me in a bot to boil, or Sten would likely run me through just with that stare of his. Leliana would start going on about her visions about what I should do, and Wynne would just pinch my cheek and call me cute. Not to mention what Zevran might try to do to me", Alistair said with mock aggravation.

She coughed, trying not to laugh, though her eyes were dancing a bit with amusement. He gave her a sideways glance of his own, one that turned into a sly smirk, "Besides, bad things happen when I lead."

"Oh? Like what?"

He said with mock solemnity, "Why yes. We get lost, people die, and the next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants!"

The last comment finally elicited a small laugh from her, the sweet sound made his heart thump in a way he wasn't going to allow himself to think about. At least not anywhere near her because he knew she could read him like an open book, but he couldn't help a lopsided grin in response. She topped off her mug from the bottle near her and in silence offered him some anyway. Just seeing the label had him shaking his head silently, he knew even a few sips of the stuff would have him drunk. He wasn't surprised to see she could handle the potent ice wine, though he wondered just how much she'd drank.

Setting the bottle down, she gave him a sidelong glance of her own, "Pantsless, huh? Is that just the grieves of your armor or?"

Happy that she willing to go along with the joke, Alistair was more than willing to keep poking fun at himself, "Completely and utterly without pants. It's really quite embarrassing."

He could see her thinking something over and had that look she had when she thought of something she wanted to ask him, but wasn't sure how to ask it. Considering some of the questions she had in the past, Alistair felt a mix of curiosity and dread. Though in the end curiosity won out like it usually did with his friend.

To give her time, he took a sip of small cider from the mug he had brought with him and almost choked as she gave him a little smirk full of mischief and asked, "Pantless, hm? In that case, since you were raised by the Chantry, have you never..." She trailed off with a furious blush, rather than finish asking her question.

He had a good idea just what she was going to ask, but decided he didn't want to go there just yet. If at all with her. So instead he fell back to joking, "Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?"

She sighed, "You know what I mean, Alistair."

"I'm not sure that I do", he said playfully, glad that in this case he could play the fool, "So what is it that I've never done, hm? Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham?"

It was his turn for his grin to turn mischievous as he decided that maybe he would let the conversation go the way she'd intended it. He wondered if he could get her to out blush him as he asked playfully, "Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

Somewhat grumpily even as the blush deepened, "Now you're just making fun of me."

He placed a hand over his heart, "Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought." At the way she lifted her brows, he grinned and asked as suggestively as possible, "In that case, have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

She grinned wickedly in return even as the flush in her cheeks deepened more so, "Why yes, I have licked a lamppost in winter!"

Alistair's mind reeled and he really hoped that she meant that literally and _not_ the secondary meaning. Instead he laughed, if a bit nervously, "Just the once? And you didn't lose half of your tongue in the process? I'm impressed."

He laughed quietly as the blush creeped up to her hairline, even as she flashed those unexpected dimples in a bright smile despite the embarrassment. He continued on in his lighthearted manner, but a bit more seriously deciding to finally give her the answer to the half asked question, "I, myself, never had the _pleasure_. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but... You know."

Lana coughed slightly before quietly asking, "You've never had the opportunity?"

"Welllll, living in the Chantry is... not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentlemen, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That's... not so bad. Is it?"

When he saw that he'd rendered her speechless he mentally braced himself for the onslaught for when she did recover her ability to talk. Or rather yell. He really put his foot in it this time. Except, he realized, she wasn't angry, she didn't have that look in her eyes or the crease that formed in her forehead when she was upset. Instead she looked...confused. Very hesitantly she asked, "You think I'm beautiful?"

He couldn't help the foolish grin that slowly spread across his face, he hadn't put his foot in it anywhere near as badly as he thought. "I... Did I say beautiful? Do you... have any particular opinion on my saying that?"

When she looked shyly down at the mug her hands he wondered what was going through that complicated mind. Though he was flummoxed at her question instead of directly answering him, "You aren't scared of me?"

"Scared of you? Whatever for? Sure you have a temper and probably could kick my ass without thinking about it if I pissed you off. But scared _of_you? I can't say that."

"Oh", she said very softly and cast a sidelong glance at him and the small smile that lit her eyes made his heart flutter with a pleasant nervousness, "Then I have to say I think I like hearing it. From you."

He didn't think his grin could get any bigger, but it did and for some reason seeing that he managed to fluster the normally composed woman made him feel braver than usual. Yet he couldn't help slightly stuttering as he continued on, "Good. You'd... want a gentleman to court you, wouldn't you? If... if you were to be courted by someone, that is."

She looked up at him wide eyed in startlement, but gave another shy, sweet smile, "I...would like that. Very much."

Hearing the music in the background changing to something slower, the whatever it was that had been pushing him to be bolder than he'd ever intended prompted his next questions, "Then in that case... Would my lady give me the honor of dancing with me? If the music stays slow enough, I think I can keep from stepping on your feet."

Feeling eyes staring at him, he turned in the direction to see Oogie studying him thoughtfully. Then hound's jaw opened in a huge canine grin and panted his very slobbery approval. Lana studied the wardog and shook her head in amusement even as she accepted his hand up. When he didn't let go of her hand as he led them to the other dancers, she gave him a flustered, but warm smile.

By the time the musicians finally called it quits for the evening, he didn't remember much except the wonderful times Lana was in his arms as they danced. Not that they danced exclusively together, since others wanted a chance to dance with the young hero of the town. Though there weren't that many who did, there were few who were brave enough to stand up to Oogie's disapproving glare. Teagan was one of those few, in fact he'd laughingly said to the annoyed mabari, "I promise not to hurt your mistress, I do remember that she's injured. Besides, if I weren't careful I don't think there'd be enough left of me for you to mangle once Alistair got done with me."

The mabari made a suspicious chortling sound as the Bann laughed at the two blushing Wardens.

Smiling, Alistair offered the silver-haired lady an arm to escort her to her room as a proper gentlemen should. He didn't say anything as she leaned a bit more heavily on him than she probably intended, though he did have to bite his tongue when he saw that she was limping. When he didn't see any blood and Oogie didn't get bossy, he relaxed slightly which earned him a thoughtful look from those intense blue eyes, but the intensity faded a little as Lana stifled a yawn. So in companionable silence they slowly made their way from the courtyard where the last of the festivities were winding down to the guest rooms in the Keep that Teagan had insisted on giving to their little band of misfits.

And he was still a little suspicious that his room was right next to Lana's. Though at the moment he was grateful for that. The last few days were catching up to him and he was looking forward to sleeping in a bed for once.

They paused before her bedroom door, her hands clasped in his and she gave him a small smile as she peered up at him through her thick silver lashes in an oddly vulnerable air. More than a little awkwardly they regarded one another in silence. She cleared her throat, "Thank you for the lovely time, Alistair."

He beamed, "Really?"

"Really. So, um, I guess this is good night then?"

A gentle smile that warmed his eyes to dark gold, "Good night, my dear lady."

"Good night, "she paused and a wicked glint entered her eyes, "My Prince."

Laughing, he reluctantly let her go and shooed her into her room.

Still quietly chuckling he entered his room, stripped and crawled into bed. For a time he lay in the comfortable bed thinking over the evening, still not believing the fact he'd worked up the courage to flirt with Lana. And not just flirt, but had outright asked her if he could court her, something he'd been clumsily been trying to do without being obvious about it. Judging by the sidelong and thoughtful looks the two had gotten, not just Leliana had figured out that there was something between the two Wardens.

Odd how a normally observant woman could miss such things, he mused as he crossed his arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He frowned slightly, then again, maybe not so odd. She'd lost her entire family after all. That he could forget something so fundamental was horrible, but she'd obviously didn't want him to remember or the others to know who she really was. Considering his own past, he couldn't blame her. Except Teagan had let that particular cat out of the bag and word had spread like wildfire amongst the people.

He wasn't surprised to see the reactions were favorable to the last of the Couslands. Of all the rumors and gossip they heard, the one common thread was the anger at how that ancient line had been branded traitors. Alistair couldn't believe them to be treacherous, not if they produced an amazing, young woman like Marlana. Thinking of the other Warden turned his thoughts in a slightly happier direction.

Granted they hadn't known each other for long, so he was a little shocked at how he was falling for her. And it wasn't like she was the first woman he'd ever met either. He had to admit to himself, as he'd thought over before, it was how she treated him that caused him to see her as more than a sister Warden. He suddenly grinned, he never thought she could be flustered the way he'd gotten her that night. Not that he wanted to do such a thing, but it had been oddly reassuring to know that he could knock her off balance the way she did the same to him.

Alistair smiled up at the ceiling, glad that he sought her out when he did. He'd realized that she was no where to be seen after the first couple of hours of the celebration. Seeing that Morrigan and Sten were nowhere to be found as well, he immediately thought the worst had happened and that the two had finally shown their true nature.

Except, that hadn't been the case. When he saw the two of them off in a corner alone in a quiet conversation, he made sure he left as quickly as possible. He really didn't know what they were talking about and really didn't want to know. Particularly when there were no signs of battle on either, and he knew that there'd have some sort signs of injury if they'd gone after her. That is if they survived the encounter. So no gaping wounds, missing limbs or strange discoloration from whatever noxious substance Lana had on hand was a good sign that nothing untoward had occurred. At least to Lana at their hands.

While he distrusted the former Crow, Zevran had been very careful to remain in the public eye the entire evening, often in the company of Leliana. While he had his doubts about the former lay sister's sanity, he knew she wouldn't allow any harm to happen to his fellow Warden.

Not surprisingly it was Leliana who told him where to find Lana. Both she and Zevran, who was accompanying her, looked concerned. He understood why by the time he found her.

When he saw the bruised expression where she sat drinking by herself, the only company she had was her worried mabari, he'd only intended to try to cheer her up. That the conversation had changed the way it did had been unnerving at the time, but he was more than pleased with the way things had ended up.

Still smiling, he fell asleep to the memories of laughing blue eyes under silver-white hair that shone brilliantly in the light of the bonfires on the ground and the moon overhead.

Laying in the massively over-sized bed for one of her slight frame, Lana lay on her side staring into the small fire in the hearth of the room. Away from Alistair's boyish charm, and her head starting to clear from the pleasant haze the wine had induced, she thought over all that had happened. And remembered another of Wynne's lectures about the potential relationship with Alistair, one the dispossessed noblewoman hadn't really let herself see was blooming. Until tonight. She hadn't really meant to flit with him, but thought she could gently embarrass him into leaving her alone.

Only that hadn't worked. He thought she was beautiful, and wasn't scared of her. She could probably scare him off if she wanted to... But the truth was, she didn't want to. Even if they never became more than friends.

That they might never become more than friends caused her mind to drift to his nervousness at admitting his inexperience in...relations. That was all right, she honestly didn't have much more experience herself. The males that had tried to kiss her slobbered worse than Oogie, which was saying something. Not to mention trying to paw her while slobbering. Ugh. Which was why she'd taken to scaring them off. Some had called her beautiful, but knew they hadn't really meant it. They only wanted the power, wealth and prestige that would come to them by marrying her.

Except they didn't really count on the fact she really did have a mind of her own. And none of them were capable of standing up to her. There had been older men who had offered for her hand, powerful already in their own right, but greedy for more. Had her family truly needed the alliance she would have wed for duty.

And the would be groom likely wouldn't have survived very long if they tried to treat her the way they treated the servants of her father's castle. Just seeing how they treated those who served their host told Bryce Cousland all he needed to of their natures and how they would have reacted to his spirited daughter. How they did make comments about a girl knowing her place. And knowing Marlana... what might have happened had he agreed to such an ill thought out match.

None of them had called her beautiful and meant it. None of them had asked to court her, just made a proposal to her father for a marriage contract. None of them called themselves a gentleman nor had they really acted in such a manner.

She thought again about of Wynne's lecture about hurting Alistair without meaning to. How she had failed her family so terribly. She'd come to like her fellow Warden a great deal in the last month or so, once he'd pulled himself together after the disastrous events at Ostagar. She sighed to herself. More than liked if she was going to be honest with herself. And feared failing him the way she'd failed her kith and kin.

Had they met under different, better circumstances, she quite likely would have been pursuing him. But carefully so as to not scare him off. And wasn't that ironic?

Troubled, heart aching, her tired body finally made her fall asleep while her confused thoughts chased themselves round and round in her mind.

But she at least had a peaceful sleep that wasn't haunted by darkspawn gibbering in the shadows of her mind, nor a screaming monstrosity flying across the skies of her dreams. Even more importantly, her lost loved ones didn't appear with their silent accusations.

Hunger woke her like it often did, for a brief moment she was disoriented about where she was. The twinge from her wounded left leg reminded her all too well about the events of the last few days at Redcliffe. Mindful about the potential of reopening the injuries, she rolled out of bed to where the healing salve and fresh bandages waited. She carefully removed the previous bandages and examined the deep puncture wounds where demon possessed corpses had chewed on her. Grateful that they were still healing cleanly, she carefully cleaned the wounds then slathered a generous amount of salve before rewrapping her leg.

_Wynne __may __be __a __worse __nag __than __Nan __and __Aldous __combined__, _Lana mused, _but __she __knows __what __she__'__s __doing __when __it __comes __to __healing__. __Anyone __else__...__I __would __have __lost __the __leg __if __I __were __lucky__. __I f __I__wasn__'__t__. __Well__, __Alistair __would __find __out __just __how __well __he __could __lead__._

Thinking of Alistair she sighed and dropped her head in her hands. What was she going to do? He really was the type of personality she was attracted to, but the few she'd known like him had never dared to respond to any of her careful overtures because of her position. Had she been whole of heart, she wouldn't be debating the situation...

Annoyed at herself, she shook her head. _Idiot__. __It__'__s __not __very __likely __that __you__'__re __going __to __survive __the __Blight __or __Ferelden __ripping __itself __apart__. __Why __not __try __for __a __little __happiness__?_

Carefully moving, she got up to get dressed and as she brushed out her long hair continued to think over the matter. _Besides__, __once __he __really __gets __to __know __you__, __Alistair __will __go __running __like __any __other __male __that __you__'__ve __known__._

Morning preparations done, she irritatedly jerked on her boots and went in search of breakfast to temporarily sate the seemingly bottomless pit her stomach had turned into. A guard down the hall gave her a concerned look as she stepped out of her room, "Is everything all right, my lady?"

Annoyed at constantly being addressed as my lady or Lady Marlana rather than by name or her proper title Warden, Lana stifled a sigh, "Fine, why?"

"Oh, well, it's just very early, I don't think anyone else is up and about from last nights revels just yet. Well, except for Warden Alistair. He said something about breakfast."

Her stomach growled long and loud at the thought of food. The guard managed to keep a stoic expression except for a bit of laughter in his dark eyes, "Aye, I know how it can be. Sorry to have bothered you, Lady."

"Thank you, but you were no bother, Ser", she said politely, trying to control her embarrassment as she continued on her way to the dining hall. By the time she reached her destination it felt like her stomach had grown a double row of sharp teeth and was trying to gnaw away at her spine. So when she smelled the food first, and the stomach pains worse, her already annoyed mood had shifted to something foul.

Alistair was already happily consuming his food when she stormed in. Fortunately for the two, he saw the dark look on her face and wisely didn't say anything as she made a beeline for the buffet that had been laid out. As she served herself, he silently poured a mug of tea then added a generous dollop of honey. When she turned around to find a seat and paused because she didn't want to take her grumpiness out on him, he gave her a pleasant nod as he gently shoved the mug to the empty seat across the table. "Eat up, and don't worry about talking to me just yet."

He flashed that boyish grin that caused her so much trouble, "I can talk enough for both of us."

Bemused, she sat down and took a sip of the tea before taking small bites of her food. It wasn't from her inherent neatness, but knowledge that eating too much, too fast with such an empty stomach resulted in unpleasant consequences. He nodded approvingly before returning to his food, a small corner of her mind couldn't help but note the drastic improvement in his table manners since their first few meals together.

In between bites he chatted enough for both of them as promised. "I know that look, I may not have been a Warden that much longer than you, but I have been around others enough to know. We ended up in a major battle shortly after we arrived at the town without a chance to get some rest after being on the road for a week. Well, make that two battles if you want to count cleaning out the castle as another battle. Then we were on the go to and from the Tower, then the memorial rites in the morning, then the celebration last night. And on top of all of that you're still recovering from a rather severe injury and that alone is likely to make you hungry since you body needs the fuel to heal. Especially with the amount of healing Wynne had to pour into you. So the real wonder is the fact you're even awake, not that you're ravenous."

She stared at him wide eyed at his little speech, and not for the first time in the time they'd been traveling together, and probably not the last, he frowned at her, "You're not eating."

Hastily she picked up her fork and started to resume her neglected meal. He smiled and went back to his own food. After refilling their mugs with tea, she eyed him thoughtfully. Alistair gave her a somewhat concerned look in return before examining a much mended shirt that had seen better days. Possibly years. "What's wrong? I'm pretty sure I haven't slopped on myself. At least too badly."

"Well...since you aren't leading, you don't have to worry about losing your pants." It was his turn to give her an odd look as she continued with a faint smile, "But regardless if you lead or not, you might end up shirtless when that poor thing disintegrates."

Knowing she was right, but not wanting to agree just yet, his expression went mock-sulky, "I have other shirts you know."

She knew that and knew they weren't in much better condition, but until now there hadn't been a real chance to find replacements that would fit a fighting man of his size. She supposed she could have gotten something from the Tower, but the thought made her twitch. Anything from that demon haunted place seemed more tainted than the darkspawn.

Now that the unnatural siege of Redcliffe was broken, and despite some of the townsfolk leaving, there was going to be a much needed market day which meant clothiers of some sort. And she didn't want to ask around the castle about buying anything because Teagan would try to outfit them, and she felt like she'd taken advantage enough of his generosity with the supplies he was arranging for them.

And if it drove Alistair off from trying to court her, well... A part would grieve a great deal over that loss, but it'd be better for him. She didn't want to drag anyone else down with her, especially the big hearted warrior who could remind her how to laugh.

Regardless, he needed some clothing that wouldn't fall if someone looked at it badly.

She sighed, "Yes, and they're just as bad, if not worse."

Instead of saying anything, Alistair pushed his empty plate to the side, placed his elbows on the tabletop, propped his jaw in his hands and studied her curiously. A twinge from her abdomen reminded her to go back to eating, after a few bites finally asked him when he still didn't say anything, "What?"

"Why the sudden concern about the state of my clothing?"

"It's not sudden", she grumbled, "Just haven't had an opportunity to find decent clothing that'll fit you."

An apprehensive light filled his eyes, "Ah...this is just shirts you're talking about, right?"

"Well, that and socks. Your boots are still sound from what I've seen."

Now he sounded apprehensive, "But you haven't said anything to any of the others..."

"Yes, because they have the sense to tell me if they need something if they can't get whatever it is they need on their own."

"Oh." He was thoughtful for a moment before cheerfully asking," So you need to get stuff for the others? Then why not drag Leliana and Wynne along? Or even Morrigan? Maker knows, she could use some time learning to be human. Go have a day doing girl stuff that doesn't involve death and dismemberment."

The sudden pain at his words surprised her, causing her expression to go blank as she struggled to stifle the grief that came rearing up from the depths of her wounded heart. Not wanting to take out the pain on her fellow Warden since hadn't meant to cause her such anguish. It wasn't his fault it was a comment her mother often said when Eleanor felt her daughter needed time doing "silly girl stuff" with Gwen as a break from the duties Lana had taken on. Just as he didn't know just how much Leliana's personality reminded her of her lost friend.

Wordlessly she looked at her breakfast as if looking for inspiration to say something. Seeing the way she paled, Alistair hastily said, "I'm sorry, I don't know -"

She shook her head as she forced herself to start eating again, "Not your fault. I apologize for my reaction and I'm sorry about the comments about your clothing."

He stared at her as she started to get up from the table. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she turned that all upside down. And it wasn't because she was female, Maker knew he was starting to learn about female quirks dealing with Leliana and Morrigan besides Lana. And now Wynne after the fun and games at the Tower. She even left those three starting at her in confusion more than once.

It was as she was gathering up her used mug and utensils along with her plate that he realized that she wasn't getting more to eat. He made his tone light as he asked, "Done already?"

"I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought", she replied quietly.

"What was it that I said?" Now he was getting worried, she normally didn't just withdraw from a conversation the way she was. If she getting annoyed in some fashion she'd show it. Not this abrupt shutdown she was doing.

She shook her head, "It's not you, Alistair. I guess I'm not fit for company after all."

Bafflement was turning into hurt annoyance as she started to walk out of the room, but instead of showing his annoyance, he decided he would use the same tactics he used the night before on her. Use his general good humor to baffle her into a good mood. So he called out, "Hey, wait a moment, Lana."

She paused in the doorway and looked at him curiously, "Yes?"

"You're still going to the market, right?"

She nodded, "Think of something you needed?"

"No, but I thought of something you'll need."

Lana blinked in confusion, "What would that be?"

It was a struggle to keep his expression serious, "A pack mule."

"Excuse me?" The smirk finally came out at the wide eyed look she gave him.

"Why yes, if you're going to be getting a lot of things, which it sounds like, you're going to need a pack mule."

"A pack mule... Alistair, you're making it sound like I'm going on some days long expedition. I'm just going down to the market to get a few things."

He grinned at her, any annoyance he felt was long gone. It was too much fun to watch her get flustered. And right now seeing her baffled was much better than that blank look, or Maker forbid, that awful bruised look he'd seen a few times before, including the previous evening. Lightly he commented, "Aren't you? I've seen you and Morrigan shopping for supplies, it really is an expedition."

"All right, so where do you suggest I get said beast of burden? I seem to remember Redcliffe's stables being rather bare at the moment. And it seems silly to have my horse saddled up for such a short trip, particularly when she needs the rest."

Jokingly, he placed a hand over his heart and gave her a mournful expression, "I'm hurt that you didn't even consider a two legged beast of burden."

"Alistair", she huffed, "That's because you _aren__'__t_."

"No? Well, if that's the case, do you want an extra set of hands to help carry stuff anyway?"

Running a hand through her hair she stared at him, "Why didn't you just ask?"

"I thought I did?" His grin broadened at her disbelief.

She threw her hands up slightly in exasperation, but her lips twitched slightly from amusement, "All right, I give. And yes, I probably can use a second set of hands for carrying things."

He got up from his seat and walked over to her, "In that case, would my lady care to lead the way?"

After giving him another flustered look, she did so. They made a side trip to the kennels to retrieve Oogie, but the hound seemed more interested in making the acquaintance of one of the few surviving mabari of the castle then going along with his human to do whatever. The too intelligent dog had eyed Alistair thoughtfully before making it clear to Lana he wasn't going anywhere. Both humans looked slightly bemused as they headed out of the castle proper since up until that moment Oogie had been disinclined to leave his human's side unless it clear that she was going into a place that he wasn't allowed. Since he was a mabari in Ferelden, there weren't too many places that wouldn't have welcomed him. In fact, there'd been a couple of places where the hound seemed more welcome than the humans he was accompanying.

So it was just the two Wardens as they proceeded down to the market square and Alistair realized that for the first time since they met that they were alone so to speak. With the streams of people coming back and forth, they weren't exactly alone, alone. But it was the first time they didn't have at least one of their companions around them. He fully intended to remain a gentleman, but at the same time he found he was relaxing more around her without having several sets of eyes watching them and judging what they saw.

More importantly, he could feel Lana relaxing with him as they walked along. When she scrounged around in her pouch to pull out a list, he could help but look over her shoulder. He mentally shook his head, even a hastily scrawled out list looked almost formal in her handwriting. It wasn't exactly a long list from what he could see, but it would have been more than what one person could have carried easily on their own. Or so he kept telling himself.

Lana tilted her head and peered up at him through her bangs with a faint smile, "Yes?"

"Just being nosy. So where do you want to start when get there?"

"At the beginning?" Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she answered his question.

That she could come up with a smart remark like that made him feel better since it meant that she was getting over whatever he'd said that hurt her so much. "Hmm, well what kind of beginning did you have in mind?"

She slanted a sideways glance up at him. He continued, "Because there's a beginning near the path to the castle, and a beginning near the entrance where we came in from a few days ago, and a beginning - "

Laughing, she cut him off, "I get the picture. How about we try the one near the way we're on now."

He beamed, "An excellent choice, m'dear. And you wonder why we have you lead?"

Shaking her head in bemusement, she didn't answer him, but thought to herself it was because they'd kill each other otherwise.

By the time they arrived, the market was bustling with the air of a festival. Neither of them were terribly surprised, after all a great number of people that were going about their business had been at the festivities the night before and were still in something of a celebratory mood. Seeing the two Wardens wandering the marketplace alone, and many remembering how the two danced the night before, there were a great number of amused smiles and speculative looks.

While Lana was aware of the looks, she ignored them since it wasn't the first time she was at the receiving end of such, and not just because she was her father's daughter. She'd gotten the same at Ostagar when people learned she was a Warden recruit. So instead of giving the gossips any more fodder, she went about her business as quietly, but cheerfully, as possible. Which wasn't all that difficult with Alistair along, since he was still bent on trying to make her laugh as much as possible.

For Alistair, it was fascinating to watch Lana as she slowly worked her way through her list. She was her typical pleasantly, polite self, but she wasn't afraid to haggle if she thought a price was too high. Even more interesting was that she would comment if a price was too low. How she knew if a price was too low, he had no idea, but those few conversations were entertaining. And not just for him, but for the other shoppers and neighboring merchants.

One thing that bothered him throughout the trip was that while Lana found little trinkets for the various members for their group, including him, she didn't pick out anything for herself. Quietly, and trying to keep from sounding accusatory, he finally asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You've gotten things for everyone else, what about what you need?"

"I don't need anything right now."

"Okay, what about anything you might want?"

She hesitated, then shook her head, "Nothing that I can think of."

He frown at her, "Are you sure? I know that even you should be able to get something for yourself. Maker knows, you've scrounged up enough little things to brighten up our days, surely there's something you like?"

"Truly, Alistair, I'm fine."

Not wanting to push and ruin an otherwise lovely day, Alistair let the matter drop for the moment, but kept an eye out for some sort inspiration.

Inspiration didn't strike until the last merchant. The final stop was the one he'd been dreading the most, the one for clothing. It was a large stall, in fact not a stall but a massive tent that provided the feel of a true shop, one run by a husband and wife that catered to both men and women. They were elderly, and if it weren't for their clothing, difficult to tell apart since the pair of them had deeply wrinkled faces that reminded him of winter apples set with brightly twinkling currants for eyes and while they both had unbent postures, their bodies had gone shapeless with age.

As the wife was going over the order with Lana, the husband considered Alistair thoughtfully before asking, "Kin I help ya, son, while the missus is with yer lady?"

Feeling guilty for some reason, Alistair looked up from examining the various odds and ends, trying not to flush. "Well, maybe."

"Maybe? See somethin' ya like?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, even as he flushed a little more from embarrassment, but pointed to a box that had brightly colored ribbons, "Well, I think so. These, er, well, ribbons. Are they long enough for a woman to tie up her hair with?"

Instead of answering right away, the man pulled out a pipe, filled it, tamped it, lighted it and puffed in contemplation while taking a long, cagey look at Alistair. Then cast one eye in the direction of the two women going over assorted shirts. Beside them was a small mountain of rolled up socks made undyed, good quality, Ferelden wool. A quiet snicker drew Alistair's attention back to the man. "Ah, son, 'tis a good thing ye said it was fer a lady. I was going to say yer hair is a mite short fer ribbons."

The image that produced had Alistair quietly laughing along with the man. Another puff on the pipe, "I reckon that yer lookinfer something for the lass that's making m'wife a happy woman with 'er shoppin"

Mutely, Alistair nodded as he suddenly got nervous again. "Hmm, I think I can kin help ye, lad. Any color in particular?"

"Er, well, yes. I saw one that was a certain shade of blue..."

The humor in the bright, black eyes brightened a bit more, "Ah, so it's like that, then. Good instincts, son. As it happens, yer in luck."

Carefully shuffling around so that he was between the women and the box of ribbons Alistair had been looking through, the merchant began to pull out lengths of ribbon. Holding them against notches in the wooden counter to get a good measure before cutting from the spools. His hands moving more nimbly than his age would normally imply and soon had neatly wound bundles of various bright colors. Hoping that he wasn't over doing it, he quietly paid the man before having them wrapped up in dull cloth to hide the nature of his purchase and stuffing the small package into the pouch at his waist.

Just as he finished doing so, and the merchant was back to looking nonchalant while puffing away at his pipe, the two women came over with small armfuls of clothing. As the husband and wife began to add up the purchases, Lana eyed Alistair, "So what were you two up to over here?"

He smirked, "Man stuff, you wouldn't understand."

"Uh, huh."

He just kept smiling at her until she shook her head before going back to go over the totals and paying the couple. As they both left with large packages, Lana said ruefully, "I am glad you volunteered to help with this. I ended up getting more than I expected."

"Always at your service, Lana", he said cheerfully.

Another sideways glance, "You're up to something."

"You wound me, but if I were, I assure you that I only have the best of intentions at heart."

"Well...when you put it that way." She suddenly grinned a bit evilly, "So, do you think I should tell Sten who the person was that originally ordered the shirts I got for him?"

Glad for the change of conversation, he arched an eyebrow at her, causing her grin to widen as she stage whispered, "Lloyd."

He couldn't help the sudden burst of laughter, "The man that was described by his tavern help as a fat, greasy pig? The one that Sten wanted to put through some sort of torture known as training?"

Lana nodded, big, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, "Lloyd refused to buy them saying that due to the recent events he didn't have the coin for the shirts he ordered. They were also the only ones big enough to fit Sten without major alterations."

"Ha! That's too funny, but while I'd love to see his reaction to that news...I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Hmm, well. Maybe in the future, when we're not near Redcliffe."

"Somehow, I don't think that'll help, Lana."

Laughing, they headed back to the castle, still lightly chatting about the day. Though a part of Alistair's mind was dedicated to figuring out how he was going to give his gift to Lana, since he was too nervous to give it in front of the others. Every so often he caught her giving him a slightly worried look, but just smiled in response.

That evening, after dinner and everyone had gone their own way, that he found the nerve to give her the small bundle of ribbons. Feeling more like a little boy than a grown man, he lightly rapped at her door, hoping that he wasn't interrupting her at a bad moment. He carefully opened the door at her okay and poked his head around the corner. She was sitting at the writing desk in the room with the book he knew she kept as an "official" journal for all they'd done, learned and future plans. She was still wearing her normal clothes, much to his relief. Nervously he cleared his throat, "Ah, I'm not disturbing you am I?"

At first she gave him a bemused look which shifted to one of concern at his question, "Of course not. Come on in, Alistair. I'm not going to bite you."

He stared at her and slowly turned red at the thought of entering her bedroom. Shaking her head at him, she gestured to the hearth of the fireplace where Oogie was sprawled out watching the two humans with evident canine amusement. She cheerfully said, "As you can see, Oogie will be a perfectly fine chaperon for your virtue."

"Just mine, hmm?" He teased back in return, smiling a little as she flushed a bit.

"Well, no. Mine also, if that's what you're worried about. But please, stop hovering in the door."

Calling himself all kinds of fool, he eased his way past the door, and managed to make his way to where she was sitting. Too nervous to sit, he declined her offer for a sit and shifted a bit from foot to foot. And called himself worse than fool when he saw how worried she was getting. He tried to clear his throat to talk, but it took a couple of tries, "It's nothing bad. At least I hope it's not, because it's meant to be something good. And it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Realizing he was babbling which was just making her more concerned, he hesitantly handed her the small, now slightly wrinkled, package, "I, ah, got this for you. I thought you might like it."

"Alistair, you didn't", she started to say, stopped and looked up at him, "And for Maker's sake, please sit! You're making me crane my neck worse than usual to look up at you."

He plopped down in the empty chair beside the desk and tried not to fidget as she carefully undid the twine holding the package. She unfolded the cloth and looked down in confusion at the balls of color before she picked up the one on top, the blue that had originally caught his attention, to examine it.

"They're ribbons. For your hair. Because I heard that you were thinking of cutting it, but couldn't get anyone to agree and I know that you were finding it frustrating..." Realizing how deep of a hole he was digging, he fell silent as she unfurled the bundle of ribbon and smiled.

Not quite meeting his eyes, and having to clear her throat, Lana quietly said, "Thank you, Alistair. I think that's the nicest thing anyone has done for me in quite some time."

Since she didn't seem inclined to bite his head off, relief made him babble a bit more, "So you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? It's a very sweet thought."

He beamed at her, "Well, then, I'm glad you like it. I'll, ah, head off now. Have a good night."

Alistair fled before she could say anything further, and so missed the slightly hurt look at the manner of his departure. Then she looked back down at the ribbons in her hands and smiled.

The next morning came faster than Alistair liked, but made himself go to breakfast knowing they had a long day on the road ahead of them. There were plans to go to a small town named Honnleath before making their way to Denerim to find Brother Genetivi about the elusive Urn that might contain the hope of saving Arl Eamon. So knowing that there was the long trip, he was going to make himself eat something before they got under way.

The first sight that caught his eyes when he entered the dining room was Lana with her hair braided up with the blue ribbons she looked at the night before. He didn't care about the speculative glances the others gave him as the two exchanged suddenly shy smiles.

He never thought that shopping for anything could have been fun, but seeing the light in her eyes made it one of the best times of his life.


	28. Oghren's Nightmare

_Author's note: I was watching _Mass Effect: Paragon Lost _while working on the current chapter of _Forsworn._ A friend of mine wanted a chapter of krogan versus darkspawn and dwarven specters. This is the result._

"So, uh, Kendrick, with you bein' senior Warden round here an' all, I was wonderin' if I could ask ya another question?" Oghren asked as they set up camp.

_Dear Andraste, why me?_ Kendrick thought plaintively. Mutely he gave Delindro the most pathetic look he could. The Antivan Warden, damn his eyes, just snickered and kept going on his way.

He sighed, "If it has to do with anymore bits of flesh turning odd colors -"

Oghren huffed indignantly, causing the braids of his beard to rise up slightly. "Ain't nuttin' like that. It's um, well, I guess what you surfacers call dreams." He frowned, "At least, I think that's what you people call 'em."

"A series of images or scenes with emotions and such while you're asleep?"

"Yeah."

Kendrick debated with himself if he really wanted to know and realized that even though it was likely to make his head hurt, he did want to know. "Then that's a dream. Why do you ask?"

After dropping the load of wood he'd brought for the fire, Oghren scratched his rear end for a moment as he thought, "Wullll, I had one. I think. An I was wonderin' iffn' it were what Wardens are supposed to have."

Movement at the edge of his vision drew Kendrick's attention slightly. It was only Mal and Delindro, evidently settling in for story time.

Even though he knew he was going to regret, he asked, "So what is it about?"

"That's the thing. I was fightin' in this weird place that was outside but no plants 'n stuff, it was all reddish rock. Well, the place wasn't that weird, it was what I was fighin', or mebbe what was fightin' along with me."

"You were fighting darkspawn?"

The dwarf scrunched up his face in thought, "Well, I kept callin' 'em that, but the guys fightin' with me kept callin' 'em husks an' cannibals. They didn't look like darkspawn, the things they called husks, looked like bald, naked humans with glowy blue bits stuck in 'em. And the things they called cannibals, they looked like bloated naked humans, only without the stuff that makes 'em male or female, and one arm was all swoll up and shot out weird red beam-things." Oghren frowned, "An there were other things too, but I ain't got the words to describe 'em."

Yep, he shouldn't have asked. And he was glad he'd never faced darkspawn like that before. "You said the allies you were with were strange?"

"Yeah! They were these big lizard things, biggern' even a qunari, with these big humps on their backs and stubby little tails. They sure knew how to fight the right way. Going all 'RAAAWR!' and 'FOR TUCHANK!' and stuff like that."

Mal asked with the morbid fascination of someone watching something going horribly wrong and not being able to pass up commenting on it, "So what's Tuchanka?"

Oghren shrugged, "No idea, but they seemed to think it was all important an' stuff. Mebbe their kingdom?"

The mage nodded thoughtfully. The beserker suddenly brightened, "Oh and they had the best weapons. They were these tube things, with a trigger like a crossbow, you pulled the trigger and it went BlamBlamBlam! Which made the weird darkspawn splatter in all sorts of great ways. And sometimes one would make this WHUMP sound one of them would just explode in bloody gobbets. And the armor! All sleek and shaped 'em."

The three humans exchanged incredulous looks which Oghren didn't take any notice of, his eyes were unfocused as he remembered his dream. Or was it a nightmare?

"I had one of them tube weapons too! And this awesome black armor with a stripe down the arm that was white with a red center." His face scrunched up again, "Fer some reason they kept calling me a specter. When I said to them I wasn't a ghost, they'd just shake their heads at me in disgust. Or mebbe it was confusion." He peered at them and scowled, "They gave me looks kinda like what you're doing now."

"It's called disbelief, Oghren," Kendrick replied mildly.

That earned an annoyed grunt, "So, is that a Warden dream or what?"

Trying to be diplomatic, Kendrick said, "Well, I've certainly never had one that exciting or colorful."

The watery green eyes swiveled over to the other two, Delindro nodded his agreement with Kendrick, "Same here, it makes the ones I had during the Blight seem positively boring."

"Hmm, maybe I can get a better description of those weapons at another time. They sound useful," Mal commented. Oghren beamed happily at him while Delindro and Kendrick tried not to cringe. Then he peered at Mal, "You ain't said what kinda dreams you get."

"Sadly, they're the boring variety. I quite like yours better."

Another grunt, this time thoughtful, "So you usually get the shadowy figures murmuring something at ya?"

All three nodded. He shook his head and sighed, "See, this is why I shouldn't go to sleep sober. I get the weird stuff going on in my head."


	29. Wonders Great and Small

_Author's note: I've been working on this ever since I first introduced the swords back in Vigilance and Sacrifice. Yes, that long. I hope they did them justice._

In a cold smithy that was lit only by the streamers of light from the full moon overhead sat a man with the powerful upper body of a smith. The cool light made the medium brown of his shaggy hair seem almost black, though it limned the faint gray into threads of silver and did the same to the beard that covered his face around his mouth, leaving his cheeks clean shaven. A small ale cask rested on the work bench in front of him as he noisily drank from the mug in his hand in between long moments of staring at the contents of the bench.

"Brother, are you all right?" questioned a man rather worriedly from the doorway. The moon a little kinder to the clean shaven man with high cheek bones, slightly hollowed cheeks and lightened his hair to almost blond.

The smith slurped from his mug before grunting, "Just drinking and thinking."

Now annoyance crept into the brother's voice, "For shame, Mikhael. You've got your wife worried sick. She thought the crusty old bastard up in the tower got you."

"Avernus is the last of my worries, Levi."

That gave Levi some pause before he carefully made his way into the smithy. Not that he should worry about tripping over anything, Mikhael was a stickler for everything in its place and a place for everything in his shop. Maker help the poor soul foolish enough to disrupt the smith's order. Still, it wasn't entirely familiar territory for the trader who had no wish to upset his brother any further. Once he was closer to his brother, he asked, "So what is your worry?"

Mikhael gestured to the contents of the work bench before emptying the cask into his mug. Frowning, his brother studied what was on the top of the bench. Or tried to. Trying not to sound peevish he said, "I don't have the eyes of a cat."

Without saying anything, the smith lit the lantern that was sitting nearby before gulping down the last of the contents of his mug. He gave off a yeasty belch.

In the warm glow of the lantern, Levi's breath caught when he saw the broken remains of Starfang, a weapon that Mikhael had considered the height of his craft. It had once been a beautiful gray blue sword with icy blue veins running through its length, it always had an icy air about it, so much so that it sometimes seemed to have hints of snow swirling about it. Now it was an inert, dull gray, the icy traceries now a dull red. It looked almost like blood, but not quite the right shade, even in the light of the lantern.

Not to mention the strangely _melted_ appearance the ruined blade had.

Next to the broken sword was a two-handed bastard sword of indifferent work. It too had a slightly melted cast to it, as well as the reddish substance covering both hilt and blade.

Laid out in a neat line were long slices of a material that would have reminded Levi of bone, except he knew of no beast that had bones that _shimmered_ in such a fashion. There were also strips of leather, far finer than even the best quality dragon hide he'd seen in his time as a merchant.

Individually the items weren't awful, but as a whole they gave him the shivers. Trying not to think of that, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Oh, Mikhael, I am sorry for the loss of the Starfang."

Mikhael shrugged in response, "It served well and died in a battle worthy of such a weapon in the hands of a hero."

The other nodded slightly then frowned a little, "Why didn't they clean the blood off it? If that's the blood from the Archdemon..."

"It's baked in."

"Baked..." Levi stopped and shook his head. He was beginning to see what maybe troubling his brother. "This was the King's commission you mentioned earlier?"

"Aye. Though he had more details than just make a pair of swords."

"Like what?" Levi always thought Alistair was a fair man, he didn't think being King would change him so quickly.

"Well, it's to make a pair of twinned swords. But he wants Named ones. Not just Named, but with purpose."

Levi blinked a little, he didn't know his brother's craft that well, but he knew that making weapons to be deliberately named and given purpose... Not many smiths could make such things, since those were the type of thing that would grow their own legends. He'd always warned his brother on the dangers of bragging about being able to make wonders, now he was being called on it by one of the people who had the right to do so, and not just because Alistair was their King now.

It had everything to do with the fact that the Dryden clan owed him and the woman now known as the Hero of Ferelden. Owed them a great deal.

"So what exactly was the King's commission?"

"To forge a pair of twinned blades made for a specific person. One to be named Vigilance so that she would always have something to watch her back. The other to be named Sacrifice so that she would no longer have to sacrifice herself."

Stunned Levi found another stool nearby and fell on it rather than sitting down. Sweet Maker, that was a tall order. If it were any other smith than his brother, he'd say it was an impossible request. But given the passion Mikhael had put into learning his craft, he was likely the only smith who could fulfill that particular commission.

But given the materials involved, it was a troubling one. He cleared his throat, "So that's why the crusty old bastard came down from the lofty heights?"

"Yeah." The smith scrubbed his face with hands calloused, singed and battered from working in such an unforgiving profession. "Given that he knows far too much about uncanny things, I figured he was the best choice to examine them."

Levi had remembered seeing the troubled expression on the ancient mage's face as he returned to his equally ancient garret after spending far too much time in the smithy. "What got him so worked up?"

"Well, the one good thing is that there is no Taint. It's just, the blood that's baked in, it's not just the Archdemon's. It's Marlana Cousland's as well."

"Maker's breath. Is the King aware of that?"

"It's too soon to tell and I don't know if I'd get an answer in time to be able to make the swords in the time he wants them." Mikhael said uneasily, "He intends them to be a gift to his new bride."

That at least didn't surprise Levi at all. During the winter the Wardens spent at the Keep with his clan, he'd had a chance to get to know the two of them. Marlana wasn't a woman to be caught by the usual fripperies that were an easy gift for a man to give to a woman he cared for. But a pair of exquisitely made swords just for her? Yes, that would appeal to her far more than anything considered properly feminine.

"So you were worried this might be something akin to blood magic?"

"Yeah. Crusty old goat told me that I may work magic in my smithy, but it's not the type to tempt demons."

Levi had to chuckle a little at that. He had as little to do with Avernus as he could, but he could see the old bastard saying something like that. Even Mikhael smiled a bit. He shrugged, "So what's the problem?"

"He said there was a power in the blood he never encountered and that it might affect the weapons."

Now he understood his brother's reluctance. This was a challenge worthy of the master craftsman's skills, and one that he desperately wanted to answer. But it was clear that the odd nature of the materials concerned the smith. "So did he say they weren't safe to use?"

Mikhael rubbed the back of his neck, "No, just that the weapons maybe more than what anyone expected, but wouldn't say how."

"Huh. Well, you have two choices. You can pack the stuff up tonight and send it back to the King with your regrets. And likely regret not making the attempt. Or -"

"Or I can actually make them", Mikhael finished for his brother in a growl. He lightly touched the broken remains of Starfang. "I will make them. I wouldn't trust anyone else with this weapon, no matter how skilled they may seem. Now get out of here so I can start planning."

"Just make sure you're not up too late, else your wife will have both our heads", Levi commented with a smile as he left the smithy.

It took a week for all of the preparations to be completed. The preparations were more than just the planning out the process of making the weapons. It was also insuring that there would be sufficient supplies stockpiled since Mikhael didn't want anyone else present while he worked on the swords. Mainly because he was worried the materials might be hazardous after all. The secondary reason was that he knew when crafting such objects, his attention was be solely focused on his creation and wouldn't be able to direct anyone, even the most skilled of his apprentices.

Due to that focus, he would be spending the entire time in his smithy and so spent a good portion of that week with his family while his apprentices saw to the supplies.

Then the day came, he rose with the sun, kissed his wife, tousled the hair of his boys, much to their mock dismay, before heading to the smithy.

In the place that was only his, even if he often shared it with others, this was his little personal domain in the world, Mikhael Dryden took the moment to think over the undertaking he was about to start. And to utter a quiet prayer to the Maker and Andraste to watch over him, even if he normally wasn't a praying man.

Having shaken off the last of his nerves, he went to work.

Once the forge was going, using firerock the mages had come up to make up for the lack of lava like the dwarves had when they still forged dragonbone, he started by smelting the swords to draw off any impurities out of the metal, including possibly the blood. Usually it was a long, boring process since it was meant to extract the metal from the rest of the materials. Even when melting down metal from items that had been made and were being remade into something new, it was often tediously long. But not this time.

He watched in amazement as the swords flared with light once in the smelter and easily melted. Before he could skim off what impurities floated to the top, there was another flare of light and the floating scum was gone. Somewhat apprehensively, he added in the bone to molten metal by using long tongs so to avoid getting scorched by the intense heat.

There was no flashes of light, the bone undramatically dissolved into the molten slag. He frowned a little. Bone just didn't melt like that. Even dragonbone or even that of an archdemon.

After studying the mixture, he finally shrugged a little to himself, carefully withdrew the small vat from the smelter and poured the contents into the two waiting blanks. There was less material left over than he had expected. The broadsword alone would have provided enough metal for the two smaller, lighter swords he was going to be making.

Sweating more from unease than the heat, the mastersmith took the opportunity to drain a couple of mugs of water, while watching the uncanny material to see if it was going to cool any differently than it should.

As if to be contrary, it didn't cool with the speed it had melted, instead cooling at the rate he had expected from ordinary materials. As if the remnants of Starfang and archdemon bone were "ordinary". While waiting, he debated on which blade to start with. Creating the blanks was the simplest and easiest part of the process. It was the forging those blanks into the intended weapons that would be the real work, and each sword would require different things to be made to their purpose.

"_First the eyes then the claws."_

He spun, looking for the source of the whisper. Tried not to shiver when he didn't see anyone else. The voice had been masculine, far too deep to be one of the scamps that served as his current crop of apprentices. None of the adults would pull such foolishness when he was working in the forge, including the mages. Or maybe especially them. They valued his work too much to pull such pranks during a project of this magntitude.

Particularly given the fact they wanted to see how their firerock worked out.

Sure there were a few youngsters among the mages who weren't above pranks, but the adults kept them in check. And he'd know if were any of the scamps that were in his family.

When there were no further voices, he relaxed slightly and looked down at the bars awaiting the lick of flame, the touch of the hammer, the cooling embrace of water to finish the tempering. The eyes, huh? Well, that was clear enough.

Gathering the material he needed, Mikhael began the process of forging the sword that would be known as Vigilance.

An unknown amount of time later, he set the partially forged blade into the solution that had been specially prepared for the temperatures he'd been working with. Exhausted, skin slick with sweat from the incredible heat he'd been working in, the master smith thirstily gulped down mugs of cool, sweet water and wolfed down some food he didn't taste. Once those needs were seen to, he collapsed on the cot he'd setup off to the side to fall into a deep sleep.

It wasn't a dreamless one though.

Mikhael found himself in a rather improbable courtyard made of white marble bathed in the warm sunlight of late afternoon of a perfect spring day. At least the floor of the courtyard was white marble, he couldn't tell what the walls were made of since they were covered in thick vines bearing beautiful, lush red roses. The thorns of the flowers looked like they could be used as blades for daggers.

A man who looked much like King Alistair, but whose jaw wasn't as broad, and his future Queen's sapphire eyes stood up from the bench he'd been sitting on. The man gave him an oddly shy smile, "Hello Mastersmith. Thank you for coming."

"What is this place? And who are you?"

"You would call this the Fade, I believe. It is the place of dreams. And magic. And spirits."

He should have been afraid, yet he didn't feel any fear. The place was oddly soothing and peaceful so he looked about with genuine curiosity.

"Will I remember this when I wake?"

"That's up to you."

"Then I suppose that it depends on what happens here."

The man flashed one of those disarming, boyishly charming grins that Alistair had used more than once to get his way with someone during the winter he and the other companions of the Lady Marlana had spent with his family. The only ones who proved to be immune to it was the strange witch and the taciturn Qunari. He didn't let himself think about the golem, that had just been too much. "I have a favor to ask of you, Mastersmith."

"Mikhael, I'm not the formal type. And who are you? You've the look of the new King and his future Queen, but they're far too young to have a grown child."

The grin shifted into a chagrined grimace. "It's...complicated as my mother would say. You can call me Oomri."

Oomri? What kind of name was that? He regarded the young man steadily, there'd been some rumors... The young man shifted uncomfortably, that was when Mikhael noticed that Oomri was wearing some type of mage's robe, only it wasn't the usual gaudy colors that many seemed to favor. Since this was a dream, though it didn't feel like one, he boldly pressed on, "You're their mage child, aren't you? Then why aren't you with the rest of the mages? And by the Void, why do you appear as a grown man instead of a child?"

He knew that sober look, he'd seen it in Lady Marlana's eyes often enough during that very memorable winter. "There are things I cannot tell, but they had to send me away for my protection. And though they didn't know then, for their protection as well."

If the smith had been dealing with Avernus only, he'd agree with the Chantry about locking up the mages. Only there'd been the two with the Wardens, even if one was a strange witch, and the mages that were now his neighbors, and probably the best customers he had so far. In fact, they'd proven to be better neighbors than many he had in the past. Sure the young ones got into trouble, but what kid didn't? And for that matter, adult? Sure there was the odd explosion, but so did other smiths when they weren't careful about what they kept in their forges. And they cleaned up their messes fairly quickly.

Considering their positions, he could understand just why they had to send their baby away. And because this was the place of dreams, he could see why Oomri would choose to appear as a grown man instead of a child. If he was as young as he suspected, it would've been an awkward conversation.

Of course, this could be a demon, but from what he understood, demons tried to tempt a man with something, not ask for a favor. Then again, he hadn't heard what the favor was either...

Though if Oomri really was the child he was claiming to be, he pitied whoever the poor soul was that ended up as his caretaker, he looked like he inherited traits from both parents. And he imagined they must have been a handful when young.

Not bothering to conceal his wariness, he replied, "Very well. What's the favor?"

"You've got children, right?"

Even more warily he nodded.

"Would you mind sharing the lessons you've taught your children to my. Hm. Brothers if you will. Brothers of my heart and soul."

That was something he didn't expect at all. And didn't sound at all demonic. He scratched his head, "Why me?"

"I have it on good authority you're a good man and a better father."

More than a little embarrassed he shrugged, not sure what to say.

A cute little sky blue ball of fluff peered around Oomri's right leg. It took a moment to register the beak, which made the rest of the of the fluff to resolve into the shape of a griffin. An adorably cute baby griffin that looked like a stuffed toy he would've given to one of his sons when they were a toddler. It looked at him with bright eyed curiosity and chirped, "Hello?"

Sweet Maker, it talked. He didn't think griffins could talk, but then again this was the Fade... He crouched down before the little fluffball so they were approximately eye to eye, it didn't seem right to loom over him. "Hello, I'm Mikhael. Who are you?"

"I'm Virgil!" came the happy squeak. Odd, but better than Oomri.

"Stupid," commented the little, bright red dragonling that came around Oomri's left leg. "Can't even say your name right."

Oomri gave him a pained look that said _see what I'm going through here?_, as Virgil growled at the dragonling. It sounded as threatening as a kitten.

Rubbing the back of his head, he carefully asked the little red dragon, "And what's your name?"

There was nothing cute about the little beast, but it was handsome and would likely grow up to be something magnificent. It drew itself up proudly, "I'm Scaryface!"

"You said I'm stupid?" Virgil asked sourly, "You can't even say _your _ name right."

Squalling angrily the dragonling pounced on the griffin who shoved back. Soon there was a rolling blur of red and blue with bits of fluff and scale going flying. Without thinking about it, he roared at the way he would his own sons if they acted in such a manner, "_BOYS!_ Just what do you think you're doing?"

They paused in midroll with Virgil on top of Scaryface, both of them staring at him wide eyed. He nodded in approval. They may not have human faces, but the expressions of his own miscreants when caught in a tussle. He just raised an eyebrow and the two separated with heads hanging. Just like his boys. He had to suppress a grin, very solemnly saying, "Thank you."

He looked up to see Oomri hopeful look and just nodded in agreement. Mikhael absently ran his fingers through his beard, "I don't suppose you have a place we can let them work off their energy?"

The young mage thought about it, then nodded. "If you go through the archway behind you. There'll be boundary markers, don't take them past that point."

Wondering what was out there, the smith headed out with a pair of eager children, even if they ran on four feet at the moment since their stubby wings wouldn't support them in flight yet. He watched them play as youngsters would, then when they were tired and curled up against him to nap (Though how could someone sleep in the Fade, weren't they already asleep?), he told the sleepy children the same stories he told his own boys.

When he woke in his forge with sunlight streaming in his eyes, he felt more refreshed than he expected given the eventful dream. But it didn't feel like a dream. And he had a good idea who those two scamps were. He looked over at the forge. Oh yes, he had a very good idea. Virgil and Scaryface indeed!

From that point on, his waking hours were spent working the metal into the weapons they were meant to be. His sleeping hours spent teaching their spirits what he wanted his boys to learn. And the two grew so quickly in those nighttime hours. He was there when they took their first clumsy attempts at flight. And cheered them when that clumsiness gave way to their first true flight.

And desperately wished there was someone else he could share that bittersweet joy. Since there wasn't, he resolved to cherish the time he had with his own children before they went out into the world.

It wasn't long after their first true flight that he found his conversations shift to what he wanted to tell his own boys when they turned into men.

The night before he was going to put the finishing touches on the swords he was greeted in his dream by Vigilance and Sacrifice.

Vigilance, now a fully mature and very handsome griffin with dark cobalt fur and plumage, bowed to him and simply said, "Thank you."

Sacrifice, whose scales were the color of freshly spilled blood and was far more magnificent than he had thought, didn't say anything, but gently tapped him with the tip of his muzzle. Unable to say anything himself, Mikhael lightly rested a hand on Sacrifice's muzzle and the other on Vigilance's crest.

When he woke that morning, he let himself shed a few tears in a silent farewell to his foster children.

Because he wasn't a man who was that good with the written word, and had no way of explaining himself to someone who did, he kept the note he wrote to go with the swords short and sweet.

_Warden,_

_Try not to break these like you did Starfang._

_Mikhael Dryden_

After all, how did you convey that you were giving a piece of yourself to someone else for their care?

Once the blades were settled into their carrying case with the note, he gently patted them in one final goodbye. To some they would mark the greatest wonders he'd ever crafted. Once, he might have agreed.

But not now.

No, now he knew the greatest wonders he'd help craft were the two boys of his that were playing out in the yard with their cousins and the mage younglings that had come over to visit.


	30. A Warm Welcome

_Author's note: This was just a silly scene kicking around in my brain._

Twirling a bolt between his fingers as he whistled a jaunty little tune he'd picked up in his travels, Varric strolled into his brother's den. Said dwarf was hunched over one his account ledgers muttering to himself as his quill made soft scratching noises while the merchant made his notations.

Without raising his eyes, Bartrand grunted and said sourly, "About damn time you got around to getting home. You'd think that you spent the entire time talking to the supposed Hero of Ferelden."

Having expected such a warm welcome from his brother, Varric smirked as he settled in one of the chairs opposite his brother. Bianca settled in all nice and snug next to the side of the chair where he could draw her quickly. Just in case. His brother had a tendency to piss people off when Varric wasn't around.

Oh, who was he kidding? Even when he was around his brother had a tendency to piss people off. That he'd been away for a month or so and his brother was still alive and well was actually pretty impressive.

Instead of immediately replying to Bartrand's barb, Varric leaned forward to plop the large folio he'd had under his arm on his brother's desk. Pale eyes finally looked up at him as the quill paused in place, "That had better contain sheets of pressed gold considering what you cost me with that deal of yours."

Lounging in the chair, the storyteller's smirk broadened, "It will be once I have a chance to turn those notes into a book."

Eying the folio as if it were a poisonous snake, Bartrand carefully laid his quill down and scooched back in his seat. Keeping his snicker to himself, Varric commented, "I got you a good deal and you know it. With how well the crops did for all of the Free Marches, not just Kirkwall, there's a glut in the market from here to Ayesleigh. Not only did you make more a profit from selling to the Ferelden crown, the family now has the royal favor."

"Bah! They're just more useless nobles."

Varric resumed his idle twirling of the bolt as he slouched in his seat and slung one leg over the side, knowing that would drive his brother insane. "Ah, now there you are wrong. The new King and his incredibly gorgeous betrothed are the ones who ended the Blight."

Ah, if only he had a way to visually capture the way his brother gaped like a fish out of water just so he could show the picture around. Not hiding his chuckle, Varric commented, "You might want to close your mouth before something flies in there."

Bartrand did so then glared a him, before resuming his normal skeptical look, "So there really was a Blight? And some no-named girl killed the Archdemon by herself?"

"Yes, there was a Blight, I saw the carcass of the Archdemon before they finally disposed of the remains. It wasn't some unusually big high dragon, that thing was _nas-ty_." He shivered at the memory of what the dead beast looked like, even with all the hide removed. Or maybe that just brought home how grotesque it had been. "And for the record Marlana Cousland wasn't a 'nobody', she was the youngest daughter of the noble family that was second in power only to the King. And now she's marrying the new one."

When his brother didn't have anything to say just yet, he continued, "But she is young. And if anyone thinks that their ages are going to make those two a pair of fools, well, they deserve whatever unpleasant fate happens to them if they dismiss the new monarchs as children."

Fingering the end of his mustache, Bartrand regarded the folio again, "And what's that then? Her story?"

"Yes, indeed, brother. Straight from her lips to my pen. Being able to get Marlana's tale from her directly was a part of the deal I brokered with King Alistair."

"Huh. What's she like?"

Despite himself, Varric shivered, "Terrifying. On the surface she seems like a too pretty noblewoman who is very polite and gracious, but that's only if you don't look into her eyes. Or you're too blind to see that she's got the eyes of a person who not only stared into the Abyss and had it stare back into her, she went into it and came back out the other side."

"I think I'll leave any future dealings with them to you then."

That was all he needed to get over his momentary bout of fear and Varric laughed, "Oh, I doubt she'd do anything to you, she does have more willpower than she lets on. And she really is quite charming."

But he could see his brother's attention had wandered off to something else. "All right, brother, I can see that there's something else on your mind..."

"Yep, I do, and you got back just in time. I've gotten the location of an abandoned Thaig not far from here. Since the Blight is over..."

He couldn't believe his ears, "Are you insane, Bartrand? You want to go into the Deep Roads?"

Bartrand waved a hand dismissively, "We're in what the Wardens call a Thaw, so it'll be some time before the darkspawn numbers regrow down there. I need you help me get that organized."

"I heard about the Deep Roads from a few people, you really are insane."

"Not that much, Varric. Just think of what we can find down there!" He shouldn't have been surprised at his brother's avarice. It's why House Tethras prospered like it did. But sometimes that trait was a bit wearing.

"You mean besides darkspawn, giant spiders, deep striders and other things that go bump in the lava generated shadows?"

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"On the surface where it belongs."

"Hmph. Fine. I'll get the backers I need myself, but since you're so fond of the surface, maybe you can help me with a surface problem. It'll go along great with your sudden fascination with all things Ferelden."

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way."

"Whatever." Another dismissive hand wave, "There's a Ferelden that's been plaguing me ever since I put out that I was looking for investors. She keeps pestering me about becoming a guard, I don't need more guards, I need people to invest the coin needed to get this expedition properly underway."

"I'll see what I can do, what's this Ferelden's name?"

"Tierca Hawke. You can't miss her, she's tall even for a human and she carries this sodding huge sword around."

"Huh, I know that name. She works with Athenril's crew, has a solid rep-"

"I don't care, just get her to stop bothering me about being a guard!"

A plan suddenly came to life and Varric smiled at his brother, who as usual was oblivious to when the teller of tales was being obviously devious, "Sure thing, brother. I can make sure she'll stop asking about being a guard any more."

Once again whistling to himself, Varric collected Bianca and his notes before heading out determined to teach his brother to be careful of what he asked for. It'd been some time since he had to teach his brother that lesson. It looked like it was time for a refresher course.

Varric would certainly give the human a warmer welcome than his own brother gave him. And who knows? Maybe he'd get a new tale or two along the way.


	31. A Terrible Accident

"Heya Fergus!," his little sister said brightly as she plopped down on the couch next to him. She'd apparently evaded Nan's clutches again since her long, dark red hair was running wild and untamed. "Doing anything interesting?"

Fergus scowled, he'd retreated to this little out of the way room to get away from everyone, but especially the little pest. Normally he didn't mind doing stuff with Lana since as little sisters went she was pretty interesting without the squeamishness that most girls had. But today he was feeling itchy, restless and not quite settled in his own skin, so the little ball of energy just grated on his nerves. "Just doing some of the work our tutor gave me."

Some of the light went out of her big green eyes at his curt response. "Oh."

Gritting his teeth a bit, the teen asked, "What did you want?"

"Well, the weather is finally nice, I thought maybe you'd like to go out for a ride with me?"

The youth could see why she'd asked, it'd been extremely dark, cold and snowy all through her birthday, and while the snow had tapered off somewhat a month later, it was still dark and cold. But right at that moment, he no desire to go out into the cold, even if the sun was finally shining.

"Why not see if you can go see Gwen? The Faolains aren't that far. You could spend the day with her."

Lana huffed at him, "Don't you remember? She's off visiting cousins."

Maker help him, he could barely keep track of his own sister let alone her best friend who was an even bigger pest. And far too girly to boot. But now she was getting that somewhat dangerous gleam in her eyes that promised pain if he said the wrong thing.

Thank Andraste that it was too cold for frogs to be out and about. The last thing he needed was to wake up to a disgruntled frog the size of his head staring down at him from his own chest because his sister decided to get even with him for something he did. Rubbing the back of his head, and trying to keep his tone even, he said, "Sorry, Lana, I forgot."

She gave him a look out of the corner of her that wasn't happy, but at least that dangerous gleam was gone.

Fergus knew better than to suggest any of the latest batch of squires, she'd gone through them in the first week. None of them had been able to keep up with her on horse, by blade or by studies. In fact most had already been sent back to their respective families, not because of her, but because most of them really were hopeless imbeciles. Only Rory, a young man around Fergus's age, hadn't been sent back and he wisely stayed far away from the overly energetic girl.

He wondered if he had something he could bribe one of the guards to distract her. Most of them loved Lana like their own, but after being cooped up with her during the winter... On second thought, no, he more than likely didn't have anything that would persuade them to go through anymore than they already dealt with.

Finally he sighed, "Lana, sister dear, I really want to be alone right now."

Her face crumpled a bit. Damn, she could almost outdo a kitten with those eyes, "But, Fergus -"

Trying not to grab a couple of fistfuls of his hair, he growled, "No. I'm sure some of the guards can escort you."

"It's not the same."

"Don't care, not gonna freeze my butt off out there."

She stared at him for a moment and Fergus knew he was going to regret this at some point in the future, but at that moment he didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? Because even if his best friend and blood brother, Nate, was around, he didn't want anything to do with him.

He tried not to growl, "Seriously, Lana, get out of here."

Lana slid off her perch in silence. She paused to give him another hopeful look, but he just pointed at the door. He felt like a heel the way her head lowered but all that did was just make him even more irritated.

Once she was at the door, she started to say something. Pushed beyond the bounds of his limited patience, he grabbed one of the curios that were scattered about the place. It was an ancient battered thing that was vaguely globe shaped and whatever designs on it had been worn off long ago. Knowing that she would easily dodge it, he lobbed it in her direction. She didn't even have to duck down as it sailed over her head.

Fergus never expected it to shatter like fragile glass when it hit the wall above her, or the...stuff that came out of it. He gaped as the shining silver...stuff poured out of the shattered bauble onto her. She scowled at him for the briefest moment. Only she opened her mouth again, it was to give voice to an agonized scream as she fell to the floor.

"Oh shit! Lana?!" He raced over to where the girl fell, but didn't dare touch her because of the strange stuff. When he saw the way she was starting to spasm, he almost brained himself as he tried to open the door so he could help.

But he didn't miss the awful mewling sound that came out of her as the last of the stuff was absorbed into her skin. And even worse. The way there was only bright silver light shining from her eyes.

Then he almost got run over by the pair of guards running in response to his sister's scream. As one came over to him, he pushed at the man, "It's my sister who needs help! Not me."

The guard looked over his shoulder, blocking Fergus's view of his sister. Whatever it was the man put a grim expression on his face the man gently, but firmly, gripped the youth's shoulders. "Sorry, your lordship, but Neddy doesn't need my help. Dun worry though, he's gonna get her to help."

As Neddy passed through the door, Fergus tried, in vain, to see Lana. All he saw was a large wisp of her hair. Then gagged when he realized that it wasn't just flopping loosely from her head as it was wont to do. Instead the clump was floating on the breeze caused by the guard's movements was flying away from her head..

On the ground was a trail of more of her hair. Seamus, he belatedly remembered the name of the guard that was with him, put an arm around his shoulders and said in an oddly kind tone, "Come along, your lordship, we'll go see yer da."

That was the last person he wanted to see. But he was going to have to face the man sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. It wasn't a quick trip, since Seamus kept stopping people to give instructions, such as sending word to the Teyrn and Teyrna that their daughter was being rushed to the healer.

Fergus was grateful his father had hired on an herbalist who wasn't fond of bleeding people out. While he had no knowledge of healing beyond rough field bandaging, he had a feeling any blood loss would probably hurt Lana's chances.

Besides, leeches were just nasty.

He'd never seen his father look so...so broken. And it came as a shock to realize that he was of a height with his father, maybe even a little taller, even though he was just fifteen, soon to be sixteen. Bryce Cousland had always been a giant in his mind. But now he seemed almost shrunken.

"Father...,"he said and stopped, not sure what to say.

Bryce grabbed him by the shoulders and asked worriedly, "You're all right, Fergus?"

Unable to talk around the sudden lump in his throat, he nodded. His father hugged him tight. "Thank the Maker, not both of my children."

Seamus quietly excused himself, and as he left also chivvied the other guards, and the few servants that had gathered, out of the area.

When his father let go, he finally found his voice, but couldn't look at the man, "Father. I'm so sorry, I never intended to hurt her. I just wanted her to leave me alone. _But not like that!_"

"Let's talk a walk and you can tell me what happened."

It didn't take very long, but then again it had been only a few minutes, though at the time it had seemed interminable. His father was silent as they walked along slowly towards the family quarters. "I'll admit that I'm disappointed that you felt the need to throw something at your sister. Though I can understand your frustration. But I'm not mad at you, Fergus."

The disappointment was worse than the anger. He hesitantly asked, "Do you...do you think she'll be okay?"

Bryce took a deep breath and let it out in a soft exhale, "Let's go see what the healer has to say."

He wasn't sure to be grateful for his father's diplomatic response or not. However, when they got to Lana's room, he wasn't grateful to be kept out while his father went in. And tried not to be more upset when he could hear the voices of his parents and the healer, but not what they said. But he could tell that it wasn't good.

Just as he was considering going into his room for the impending parental storm, his father came out, but didn't say anything, just gripped Fergus's shoulder for a moment then walked away. After staring in his father's direction for a moment, he finally worked up the courage to lightly knock on the door to his sister's room. The door opened just enough for his mother to slip out, she closed it quietly, but very firmly, behind her.

That she looked so scared made him feel sick to his stomach. Like his father, his mother hugged him tightly for a moment. When she stepped back, he felt gutted. Why weren't they yelling at him? The way they were acting was even worse than them actually getting angry. He swallowed a little before asking, "How's Lana doing? Can...Can I see her?"

Much to his dismay, his mother sniffed and blotted at the tears starting to form. "It's best you don't see her right now, son. But she's still with us for now. Maker willing, she'll pull through."

Fergus could feel tears starting to threaten in his eyes, which he scrubbed away and whispers, "Mom, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt her."

When she hugged him tightly again, he wondered how she'd gotten shorter than him, though that thought didn't linger very long. She ran a hand soothingly up and down his back, "I know, Fergus, I know. It was just a terrible accident."

Knowing that his mother more than likely wanted to go back to his sister, Fergus let her go and stepped back. "I know you probably want to go back to her..."

"Are you sure?," she asked while searching his face worriedly. He nodded, whatever she saw must have satisfied her concern for her oldest child, since she reached up to ruffle his hair before going back into the room.

Sick at heart with no desire to go back to his studies, Fergus wandered aimlessly about the castle. The guards and servants that he passed looked at him worriedly, but didn't stop him. Finally he found himself near the mabari kennels. He almost turned away since that was one of Lana's favorite haunts, besides the stables, being the animal lover that she was. Except he knew that sometimes a mabari was the best person to see for comfort.

There really was something to the old saw about them being smart enough not to talk.

Unlike the kennels where the hunting hounds were kept, he wasn't immediately greeted by frenzied barking and yelping. There were a couple of inquisitive "woofs", but being the intelligent creatures that they were, the hounds knew his scent and remembered him. Hoping that puppy antics would help the ache in his chest, Fergus went over to the bitch that had given birth four weeks before.

The six puppies were in a pile on the opposite side of the kennel from their mother, who took a deep sniff, gravely got to her feet and walked over to him then leaned against him. Or maybe Fergus leaned against her. He quietly said, "Your puppies are quite the lookers, aren't they, Saibh?"

She panted a little, but didn't give him the "smile" she normally would have. Instead her warm brown eyes watched him steadily. He knelt by her, wrapped his arms around her solid neck and silently cried into her ruff. She rested her head on his shoulder then gently licked his ear, since that was the only place she easily reach without making him move.

Quiet whines drew his attention to the now awake puppies who were watching him with big eyes and their heads tilted to either side. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he said hoarsely, "I did something terrible."

Young though they were, the puppies either understood what he said, or at least his tone, because that earned him some more whines. Saibh sat down next to him, then nudged at him until he found himself sitting on the floor, his back against her like a living backrest while the puppies piled on top of them both. Absently rubbing various heads and ears, he continued, "I hurt my sister without meaning to. But I'm her big brother, I'm supposed to be protecting her, not being the one to hurt her."

His breath caught in his throat as tears threatened again and his chest felt like it was going to catch on fire. One of the puppies wobbly braced its paws against his chest and attempted to lick his face the way its mother did, only it managed to slobber all of him, itself and one of its siblings. The antics earned a weak smile. Saibh just gave a long suffering sigh and tried to clean everyone up which caused an unexpected chuckle to emerge from him.

Once Saibh was satisfied that all was as it should be, she turned her warm attention back to the hurting boy. He gave her another weak smile and scratched behind her ears. Then he found himself telling the story again, but this time it felt like a catharsis of sorts. Curled up against her, he found himself crying yet again. Once he was done, he fell asleep against her solid presence, surrounded by puppies who had fallen back asleep.

John, the kennelmaster, gently woke him from his unintended nap. It took both mother and kennelmaster to keep the puppies from following him but could do nothing about their distressed cries at his departure.

Except for one. He was a sneak who almost got out of the kennel successfully behind Fergus. One of the other mabari snorted in amusement, alerting him to his little shadow. The puppy wasn't amused.

That was the last bit of amusement Fergus had in awhile.

It marked the start of a week shrouded in a nightmarish haze.

One or the other parent was at Lana's bedside throughout the time, though they did try to give him some attention, but he didn't feel justified to take up their time. Not with how ill his sister truly was. Yet, she somehow held onto life despite how bad her condition was. Or so he gathered from little snippets of conversation he overheard.

His emotions ran a gamut of guilt to anger, at himself and at his sister, so Fergus was even worse company to be around than when he went through one of his normal mood swings. But spending time with Saibh and her puppies proved to be the only place he could find any solace. Even though she was a patient, silent soul, the hound wasn't afraid to mother Fergus as much as her pups by comforting him when he needed it and giving him a light nip when she thought he'd been wallowing too much.

When the mage with his templar escort showed up, Fergus knew things were worse than what he'd been told. He never learned the mage's name, but the man was average height, somewhat pudgy with a windblown look to his graying brown hair and an air of absolute confidence. He listened to Fergus with all of his attention. Yet somehow that was more reassuring than the young man expected.

But it was the compassion in his brown eyes that comforted Fergus the most.

After asking some questions to confirm details, the mage placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "I will do everything in the power granted to me by the Maker to make sure your sister recovers."

One of the templars spoke quietly when the mage had headed into the room, "Your sister is lucky your father's messenger got to the Circle when it did. He's our best healer and he was about to go to the College of Enchanters for a period of study."

The quiet awe in the young man's voice, one who wasn't much older than Fergus himself, did a great deal to help buoy Fergus's spirit.

But it didn't completely end his worry as the hours went by while he sat in tense silence with his parents as the mage did his work. When the door opened to reveal an exhausted man, they stood together and his father asked, "Lana?"

The healer smiled, "Will be all right now. Such a remarkable spirit in that girl, she'll be a handful when she gets older."

Fergus muttered, "She already is."

Eleanor said reprovingly, "Fergus!" But there was laughter in her voice.

Smiling in return, the mage said, "She's awake for the moment, though she'll likely be sleeping a great deal to recover."

Bryce gently pushed him towards the door, "Why don't you go see Lana while your mother and I talk with the healer?"

That was more of an order than a suggestion, but one that he was more than happy to comply with.

Inside, there was a dim light, but it smelled more of fresh, astringent herbs rather than the sickness he expected. There was enough light for him to see the ravaged features of his little sister. Not only was her face almost skeletal which was emphasized by the lack of hair. With her eyes closed, he thought she was asleep and started to head back to the door when her eyes flickered opened.

Her _blue_ eyes.

Fergus could feel his gorge starting to rise, not only had she lost her hair and most of her flesh, but her eyes had changed color. What else had changed?

She asked weakly, "Fergus?"

Feeling more than a little wary about this strange creature that sounded like his sister, but only vaguely looked like her, he carefully made his way over to her side. Trying to keep his tone light, he said, "Hey Pest."

A small smile lit up her features and that awful feeling he felt when he first saw her fled. This was still his sister. Afraid of hurting her anymore than he already did, Fergus gently placed one hand over hers, "I'm sorry."

Lana blinked at him in confusion, "For what?"

"For being the one to get you into this mess."

She screwed up her face as she thought that over. "I didn't think you meant to hurt me."

"I didn't, I just wanted you to leave me alone for a bit."

There was silence for a moment as she thought that over before nodding a bit, "Well, guess you don't have to be too sorry." Then she gave him that familiar sideways look of hers with that impish grin that promised trouble, "Well, there is that thing with the lamppost this past winter. So I guess I should get back at you."

The threat should have worried him, instead it made him feel better. That was definitely his sister talking. He gave her a weak smile, "Guess I should be glad that there aren't any frogs out yet."

Her eyes may have been blue instead of the green she had inherited from their mother, but that glint hadn't changed. "Fergus, this is something worthy of more than just a mere frog."

The yawn that followed spoiled the effect. He patted her hand again, "I'll should let you rest. Mom and dad will be seeing you in a bit."

His sister nodded a bit, then her eyes closed and she slid into sleep.

Both parents hugged him when he stepped out into the hall before they went in to see Lana. The healer and templars were nowhere to be found. Without saying anything, his mother went into the room. He quietly said to his father, "Lana's going to be okay, I think. Right?"

Bryce smiled, "Yes, my dear boy, she's going to be fine. The healer isn't sure what it was, but he expects that she'll make a full recovery." His father looked at him thoughtfully, "What made you so sure?"

Giving his father a chagrined smile as he rubbed the back of his head, Fergus said, "She promised she'd get back at me with something worse than a frog."

His father's belly laugh was probably one of the best things he'd ever heard. Once he regained his breath, Bryce clapped him on the shoulder, "You're right about that. C'mon, son, we'll leave your mother to have some time with your sister."

The two walked away in the first easy silence since the day of that dreadful accident.

As the next two weeks went by, life slowly began to return to normal. Or what was considered normal for their household. While he was happy to see his sister starting to recover, including her hair starting to grow back in, it was quite a jolt to see that it was growing back a strange silvery white color instead of the dark auburn they both had. And it wasn't the silver of old age, it was silver as in the metal.

At least she was putting weight back on so she didn't look so skeletal.

What didn't help was that Gwen had returned from her trip, and after her initial hysterics, had pretty much moved in to be with her best friend until Lana recovered.

Fergus wasn't sure if he was going to recover having Gwen around. Particularly when he found a certain mabari puppy making his slightly wobbly way down the hall to the family quarters, and he knew that Gwen was the exception to the dog-mad mentality most Fereldans had.

With a sigh, he said, "You're determined about this, aren't you?"

He knew that everyone had been hoping one of the puppies would bond with him, but none of them had clicked. Which he was fine with, he liked mabari, but they were a handful. The puppy plopped down on its butt and scowled at him. Or at least as much as a puppy could, which wasn't terribly intimidating. "All right, I guess you are. As long as you promise to still be quiet, I'll get you into my sister's room."

The eyes brightened, the butt went back up so the puppy could do a full body wiggle of happiness. But quietly, even if he slobbered a good bit. Shaking his head a bit, he scooped up the armful of happy puppy, only to find out that it hadn't been just his mouth that had slobbered.

"You're going to owe me for this, I swear it, pooch."

There was a soft, chagrined whine. "Yeah, I know, you're still figuring it out."

So first there was a quick trip to his room to clean the puppy and himself a bit, as well as a change of clothes for himself. Once that was taken care of, he carried a very contrite pup across the way. Hoping he wasn't disturbing anything, he knocked on the door and opened it at the muffled answer.

Positioning himself so that he wouldn't immediately reveal his little friend, he peeked around the door. Only Lana was in the room, propped up in bed by a large pile of pillows and a book on her lap. There was no sign of the other female pest. She raised those strange pale eyebrows and looked at him curiously. He asked a little nervously, "Gwen's gonna be out for a bit?"

"What's going on, Fergus?"

Keeping his arm wrapped around the puppy so she couldn't see him right away, Fergus eased himself into the room and shut the door behind him. Taking that as his cue, the puppy lifted his head, saw Lana and started wriggling. Not wanting to risk the puppy jumping, and falling short, on the bed, Fergus hastily walked over and deposited the squirming bundle on the foot of the bed. Who promptly made a beeline for the girl, but to give him credit, the puppy was careful in his approach to her and was very delicate in the slobbery kisses he gave her.

Not sure what to do with himself, he clasped his hands behind his back, "I'm pretty sure he's all emptied out now, so you shouldn't have to worry about any, um, dribbling."

Lana gave him a wide eyed look before she realzed what she meant and started to laugh. "Fergus, have I mentioned that you're my favorite brother?"

"It helps that I'm your only brother."

"Nuh uh, there's always Nate."

"He doesn't count."

More laughter which was even better hearing than his father's a few weeks before. Then she quieted and gave him a warm smile, "Thank you very much, Fergus."

"You're welcome. So what are you going to name him?" He had a feeling he knew, but with his sister it was never safe to make an assumption.

The puppy sat and looked at her expectantly. Lana reached out to ruffle the pup's ears, "I'm going to name him Oogie after the toy mabari I had. I had some wonderful adventures with that toy, and I'm sure I'm going to have even more with my new friend here."

Oogie "rrfed" in agreement.

That night at the private, family dinner his parents tried to have once a week, his father said to him blandly, "So I hear that your sister has a new friend."

Trying not to fidget, Fergus nodded, "So I gather."

Eleanor made an exasperated sound, "Did you really have to get a puppy out of the kennels before he's fully house broken?"

Bryce made a suspicious coughing sound. Trying not to look at his father, because he knew the expression he'd find would set him off too which would set off an entirely different reaction from his mother, Fergus shrugged, "He got himself out of the kennels. I'd been warning John about him, but no one listened to me."

"Mark my words," his mother said a bit grumpily, "that hound is going to be trouble."

"Then in that case, they're a perfect fit," he said without really thinking about it.

His mother threw her hands up in the air and changed the topic.

A month later he knew his sister had made a full recovery when he woke up to his hair being a different color. Gone was the dark auburn, instead it was a bright, vivid purple with gold sparkles. Later he would get annoyed with her, but when he first discovered her revenged, he only had one thought.

How in the Maker's name did she pull it off?


End file.
